Femme Fatale
by Reinbeauchaser
Summary: Set in Wendy Peabody's Rahab AU of TMNT's. A young woman finds the job of her dreams, her employer finds the girl of his. Will these dreams turn into their worse nightmares? Caution: Character Death. Don centric A prequel to Rahab.
1. PreSeason

**_A/N_**_ – For anyone familiar with Wendy Peabody's story, 'Rahab', and who might have taken 'notes' on Don in that story, you might recognize the name 'Bara'. She was his first wife (although at the time that I wrote Just Outside My Window, in the epilogue I thought she was his girlfriend. Evidently, I had missed the part in Rahab that said Bara was his wife). _

_In **Femme Fatale**, this is how they met – at least, according to my muses. Where Wendy didn't offer much in the way of information on the girl, other than she was Don's assistant and a bit 'cozy' with him, I've had to use my meager imagination. This story will detail the different stages in Don and Bara's relationship. I will not be taking this as a day to day expository, however. Instead, I am writing about the defining moments in their friendship that ultimately lead up to what Don told Rahab about what happened between him and Bara, in Wendy's story by that name. As for 'what happened', well, you'll just have to tag along and become a brief, faithful reader! _

_Oh,__ and – obviously – I don't own anything, nothing at all, other than Bara's life story and how she came into Don's life. Poor girl; y'all gonna cry for her, I just know it! **And, there will be a Character Death, so be forewarned! **Bwahaha_

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**Femme Fatale**

**Chapter 1 – The Prologue Season**

The young woman sat primly in the leather chair, her crisp dark blue suit giving her the appearance of perfection. The brilliant white blouse beneath her tailored, French cut jacket made a striking contrast against the denser color, while the subtle golden tan of her skin suggested her Asian ancestry. Her neck was long and refined, supporting a delicate head crowned with jet-black hair that she had pulled back into a tight braided bun. Wearing a light application of make-up, it gently accented her already lovely features, with red seeming to play well along her lips.

She neither fussed with her clothing, nor fidgeted, but kept her posture erect and professional. With one leg crossed over and daintily hugging the other, she maintained her modesty quite well. After chancing a glance at the gilded and intricately ornate double doors across from her, the girl allowed her gaze to take in the rest of the reception room, or hall. Where the room was large enough to accommodate fifty people quite easily, she felt rather dwarfed by its overstated dimensions. She sighed subtly, then, trying to dispel any nervousness.

Taking in the room's appointments, she next studied the marbled floors. With colors of soft pink and white, and with an occasional spattering of gold, they did well to offset the subtle fresco mural adorning the walls. Painted in muted tones of pastels, the various landscapes and pictures were mildly entertaining to her, and obviously painted there to distract those who waited in the lobby. At the very least, it gave them something to look at, as she was doing now.

The girl's eyes then followed the height of the walls, having to tilt her head back just a little to appreciate their grandeur. They seemed to soar towards the heavens a good sixteen feet, maybe even more, and then topped by a ceiling that nearly astounded her. It bowed upwards even more, with a golden filigree design at its very apex. Where the walls joined at the ceiling, however, crown molding, as gold as the doors, wrapped its way all around the room. The intricate design of the molding was just as impressive and detailed as was the rest of the room. Yet, what grabbed her attention the most, were the two chandeliers that hung from above, with each opulent luminary at least six feet across.

They glittered like a million diamonds as the hundreds of intricately cut crystal drops and buttons radiated their light. It was simply breathtaking. One would normally find such lavishness in a ballroom or a mansion, but not here in a simple 'waiting' room. It was obvious that the mogul behind the golden doors had outfitted his building to impress and to intimidate. Who would dare challenge him, when he could easily afford to buy an army, as he did with this New York City skyscraper. The girl could only stare at the light fixtures in wonder, nearly bedazzled and mesmerized with their beauty.

_"Thank goodness I'm alone in here,"_ she thought to herself, looking back towards the reception door, now closed to give her privacy. On the other side of the door was the receptionist who had ushered her in only ten minutes earlier. She had said very little to the girl at the time, other than to ask her if she wanted a cup of coffee or tea. When the girl waved away any of the proffered beverages, the woman directed her to the chair she now sat in, soon returning once again to the reception room and closing door behind her.

At first, the girl felt put off for being left alone, but now, as she looked around her general vicinity, she had to appreciate her solitude. "_At least I can gawk at this display of wealth without having to worry about someone watching me do it."_

She tried to relax a little more.

After a few more moments had passed, the girl closed her eyes and swallowed in nervous anticipation, taking in another deep breath. However, realizing that it wasn't working too well, she opted to use an ancient calming exercise that she implemented whenever she felt stressed out. At first, she slowed her breathing and tried to relax her mind, thinking of the one item in the room that had brought a smile to her face – the chandeliers. Their beauty had impressed her, their rainbow of tiny reflective lights almost hypnotic. Years ago, her grandfather had taught her this technique; to think of one simple item that had a positive affect on her, something simple to ease her worries. It was an art form passed down through the family, and now it was something that she used whenever needed.

As she regarded how the chandelier affected the entire room, she thought of her deceased grandfather. Similar to how the tiny crystal drops and beads reflected the inner light of the ceiling fixture, her grandfather, likewise, had influenced her life in the same way. The wise old man had been gone, now, for some five years, and yet on a moments notice, she could recall any lesson from him, even something as simple as breathing the right way to quiet her nerves. She smiled at the memory and the warm feelings that it brought to her heart.

Remembering the time of year he had first taught her this simple breathing trick, she sighed. It was springtime in northern Japan, much like it was now, here in New York. Except, in Japan the cherry trees were in full bloom, their crown of radiant pink and white flowers filling the landscape with their delicate beauty. She and her ojiisan, or grandfather, were taking in a cup of morning tea as they sat beneath one of the trees in his garden, both of them enjoying the occasional light rain of petals that sporadically sprinkled over them. She had just shared with him about a nightmare she had had the night before and he was listening to her.

It was then when he had introduced her to the mysteries of breathing correctly.

She was only five at the time, but had already experienced much pain for one so young. Her parents had died only the year before, leaving the little girl adrift for the first time in her life and quite confused. She was an only child, and so her ojiisan had come for her. Where he was the only surviving member of her family, it was only right, then, for him to raise her. He eventually became her anchor, her father, and inspiration. Yet, sitting under that cherry tree so long ago, he had sensed a need for the girl to reclaim some measure of control, and so it was then that he had determined 'breathing' correctly would help her.

In fact, as it turned out, it became the first of many valuable lessons that he would impart to her.

Now, as she sat in the lobby, waiting for her appointment, she sighed once more. Quickly dismissing the distant memory of her grandfather, she stared again at the intricately carved golden doors across from her. Considering their size, she determined them to be at least eight feet tall and just as wide, yet the walls themselves easily dwarfed them.

Still, as she studied the carvings there, she pursed her lips. She turned her head this way and that, as she tried to figure out what exactly the carvings were. Then, like the sun breaking forth behind darkened clouds, she saw it, or, rather, she saw _them_. Four turtles, more like sea turtles, if she were to honestly say, but turtles none the less. The two doors, as one, showed a complete picture, but where they met in the middle, there would be two on each side, indicating that even when separated, they were still part of the whole.

She chuckled a little to herself, somewhat amused with the irony. Just the same, the man who owned such splendor could afford the best, and if he wanted turtles carved into his office door, then who should complain?

In any event, even though she had been on time for her appointment with him, the man she was to meet appeared to be late.

_"He can afford to be, I guess,"_ she mused silently, _"Although, I would think that he would have enough forethought and courtesy to try and be punctual."_ The girl sniffed in mild offense, and then looked over at the table on her right, next to where she sat. Spying a collection of magazines there, she thumbed through them until she found one of interest. Taking it up and placing it in her lap, she noticed that the magazine concerned yachts, but not the ordinary yacht that the ordinary man of wealth might fancy. No, these yachts were behemoths, suitable for anyone who considered sailing as something more than just a pastime. As she leafed through the pages, her eyes widened as each vessel seemed to outdo the one before, as if challenging the very notion of sensibility.

_"Who would want one of these? Except…maybe to impress?" _she asked herself. The prices were imposing by themselves. Yet, she then wondered if the man behind the doors provided these magazines to give the impression that he owned such yachts. On the other hand, it was quite possible that he actually did and only kept the magazines for those of like mind to enjoy.

Considering he was the sole owner of the building she was in and owned the company for whom she worked, and the fact that his name had become a household word throughout the world in just a few short years, it would not have surprised her one bit if he did indeed own such a sailing vessel.

Many, she thought, who came into wealth so quickly often splurged on such fantastic objects, if only to satisfy a long held fantasy. As she looked around once again, she surmised that this was probably the case with the one behind the golden double doors – with turtles carved into them, no less! She sniffed again, not the least bit impressed.

Shrugging, she returned the periodical to its rightful place, blowing through parted lips a bit of anxious air. _"Not that I should be concerned, I only want the job,"_ she mused silently, now beginning to feel a slight edge of growing impatience.

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"You've investigated her thoroughly, Thomas?" the man asked as he sat behind his desk. As he watched the monitor screen, he steepled his fingers under his chin in thought, while his elbows rested along the arms of his chair. He was leaning back into the soft leather fabric of the overstuffed furniture, watching the girl on the screen as she looked around. Then, as she slipped a magazine onto her lap, he observed as she glanced through the periodical. He noted a bit of increasing agitation as she thumbed the pages from right to left. However, he made neither comment nor judgment regarding the girl, but just sat there and studied her.

To the casual observer, it would have been impossible for anyone to know about the cameras strategically placed throughout the anteroom. For the man behind the desk, it was an added safety feature, and one that had on more than a few occasions, spared his life.

Thomas, Asian in appearance and small in stature, then replied, "Yes, sir. I've checked her lineage, where she went to school, her grades from primary all the way through university, her pastimes, and her favorite food." Thomas held out his palm pilot for his employer to take, which he did, with the girl's resume already downloaded and showing on the small screen.

Don quickly read the stats presented on the viewer, his keen mind easily absorbing the offered information. Along with her list of credits, he saw the names of the universities that the girl had studied at, her seemingly endless number of awards, and a few glowing comments from some of her professors. Don smiled a little, obviously quite impressed.

Thomas then continued to click off more of the girl's attributes, "She's excelled in everything, sir, earning nearly a four-point-eight GPA, and acquiring two masters and a doctorate by age twenty-five. She's done far above expectations in the lower labs, as well, surpassing even those who would otherwise be her superiors." Taking a breath, the man added, "On a personal note, she prefers dramas to comedy, history to fiction, and would rather eat with chopsticks than a fork and knife." Thomas smiled as he said, "The girl makes a habit of eating at the same sushi restaurant three times each week and on the same days. The staff there knows her very well." He cleared his throat as he continued, "My informant says that she rises precisely at six a.m., spends under thirty minutes getting ready each morning, and is never late to work. After quitting time, she returns home, changes into running shorts and a tank top - weather permitting, and then runs a minimum of two miles. Afterwards, she may eat a light meal, or nothing at all, and maybe take in a bit of television, usually the documentary or history channel. If not television, then she reads, which is usually non-fiction. My informant has never seen her on the phone, at least not in the past year that we have been studying her. Oh, and just before going to bed, which is precisely at ten, she drinks a cup of chamomile and lavender tea."

A long, pregnant pause followed, as Don absorbed Thomas's information. Then, he remarked, "Her stats look very good, almost perfect. Anything else that I should know about other than…that," the man asked as he handed the palm pilot back to his employee.

"Yes, she flies to northern Japan each year, in the springtime. She likes to visit her deceased grandfather at a Buddhist monastery, where he is buried. In fact, she just returned from there a week ago."

"Is she jet lagging still?" his employer asked curiously.

"Actually, she does very well with long flights. My informant tells me that she meditates off and on during the flight to and from Japan."

The man behind the desk smiled as he glanced over at the monitor screen, "Good, that's very good to hear. It seems she has acquired some training to dispel simple things such as jet lag. It shows – strength." He turned back to face his employee again, an expectant expression on his face.

"I've also checked for any other type of training and found there isn't any history of martial arts, sir," Thomas remarked, knowing it was the one detail his boss would find most interesting.

"Just as well," the man said as he pursed his lips, "I think I would be more concerned if she did. It would cause me to question – the validity of her innocence." He leaned back against his chair, crossing his arms in front of him, and studied the monitor again. On the screen, he watched as the young woman in the other room continued to sit and wait. She had dispensed with the magazine and was now just biding her time. He could tell that she had great training in patience, as well; a trait that he found most attractive.

"She's quite lovely, isn't she?" the man murmured softly, almost as an afterthought, barely whispering his words.

"Sir?" Thomas asked, uncertainly.

"Lovely, the girl is lovely, Thomas," his employer repeated, only a bit louder, this time, and almost in awe, as if he had found a rare tropical bird. "Not that it's a requirement, but – if one is to work next to someone for any length of time, a pleasant appearance would be a nice bonus, wouldn't you say? Sort of like working in a garden filled with beautiful roses."

"Yes, Mr.Tello, I would have to agree with you on that one." Thomas replied, glancing once over at the monitor and nodding his head in concurrence.

Mr. Tello tapped his chin a bit with one finger, seemingly in thought. Then, he looked up at his valet, "Does she have many friends?"

Thomas replied, "Actually, she is a very hard and dedicated worker. I've seen her take a lunch or two with a fellow lab assistant now and then, but for the most part she is too caught up in her work to socialize."

"Hmm…I see," was all the man said in reply. Then, he grinned, sitting forward a bit in his chair with his hands now in his lap, as he entreated, "I think she will do. I'm impressed with her resume', her education is sterling and though I would prefer her to be a bit more socialized, her commitment to her work is admirable." He smiled, "I think she more than meets my expectation for this project." Don looked once more at the screen, "The government will undoubtedly benefit from the girl's capabilities, as will I." Nodding towards the doors, he instructed as he switched off the monitor screen, "You may welcome her in, Thomas."

"As you wish, Mr. Tello." Thomas then turned heel, executing a one-eighty-about-face, and walked the twenty feet to the gold double doors. As he opened them, he stepped out and, keeping one door ajar, called, "Miss Tanaka, Mr. Tello will see you now."

Without hesitation, the girl instantly rose to a stand and strode confidently up to the now opened doorway. As she walked up to Thomas, her two-inch navy-blue heels clicked daintily against the marble tiled floor.

As she approached him, the small-stature man noted her petit size, standing as tall as he did with help from the shoes she wore. Without them, most certainly she would be an inch shorter than his employer was. Just the same, her legs were trim, as was the rest of her figure, and he had to agree with his boss that she was indeed very attractive.

As the young woman reached him, she stopped, and then bowed her head slightly. After looking back up again, she smiled just a little. Thomas returned both gestures, and then opened the door wider, thereby allowing the girl to pass through and into the office beyond.

As the young woman came into the room, she had all she could do to keep from gasping. It was the most striking room that she had ever seen. Styled in traditional Japanese, the walls were dressed in a tatami mat material, with colors of red, black, and sporadic touches of gold accenting here and there. Antiquated Samurai masks and swords adorned the walls, with many silk paintings showing the ancient landscapes of old Japan. Several tall black pedestals littered the floor space around the room's perimeter, each crowned with an antique statue of the mounted warriors. However, the most striking object was a full sized statue of a Samurai on horseback, monochromatic in black obsidian, yet dressed in the colorful traditional armament of that period. It resided at the opposite end from where her employer sat, almost as if there by design and for the sole purpose of intimidation.

The desk where Mr. Tello sat was the same ebony black as the statue and pedestals, and quite orderly. The only items on his desk were the flat screen monitor situated to the man's right, and then a console with a series of buttons along the left side.

However, Miss Tanaka never faltered her pace, but kept her reaction of the room to herself. Turning now towards the man behind the desk, she followed Thomas further in, and took the seat offered her, placed just in front of the black, imposing desk.

As she sat down in the proffered seat, she smiled at the man on the other side and then greeted him, "Mr. Tello," as she gave a little bow of her head. Looking back up at her employer once again, she waited.

In the past year after she was hired, she had seen him only a few times when he would pass through the laboratory where she worked, several floors below. He was always startling to see, yet here in his office and being this close to him, she now noticed the kindness that so many of her work associates talked about. There was the subtle strength in his features, as well, yet his eyes told her so much more. They were warm and friendly, their chocolate brown hue almost disarming the way they reflected the light in the room. She felt safe, here, for some reason, welcomed even.

"Ah, Miss Tanaka, I am so glad that you came." Mr. Tello said with warm sincerity, and then bowed his head slightly, "I apologize for my lateness, but – ah – I had some small details to take care of. I hope you will forgive me?" He looked back up at her now, his smile genuine.

"Of course, Mr. Tello. My time is your time," she said as she bowed politely once again.

Don was charmed; yes, the girl certainly understood propriety and courtesy, her traditional bow most attractive. Working among those who lived in and around New York City had dulled him to the exactness of Japanese customs, something he favored over the handshake of Western society. Seeing this young woman extend to him a courtesy that he had almost forgotten, made him desire a visit with his one brother who resided near Osaka.

Nevertheless, he knew by her education and the exactness of her work in the lab, that this Miss Tanaka would become a great asset to his latest project, his most important project, in fact. She would do nicely for the task he had in mind for her.

"Miss Tanaka," Don began, "I trust that Thomas has explained the project you have been called to work on?"

"Yes," she replied eagerly, her voice quiet and soft, yet her eyes danced with enthusiasm, "he has, as much as he was allowed to. I understand that this project is – to be kept confidential?"

Nodding subtly, Don replied, "I am glad that you perceived this fact. I will explain later in more detail what it is about, but I want you to be aware that it may involve many long hours of research and work, probably forcing you to stay well after most of your compatriots in the lab have gone home. Are you up for it?"

"Oh, yes," the girl bowed her head once more, commenting eagerly as she looked back up again, "I am very excited about this opportunity and I give you my word, you will never have to ask me to give more of myself."

"It might also mean working by yourself on occasion, although most times you will be working side by side with me." Don further explained.

"Whatever work you have for me to do, I will do gladly. The working conditions are irrelevant," she replied evenly.

Smiling, Don bowed in return, "That is most acceptable, Miss…" He paused then, studying the young woman seated across the desk from him. Then, he remarked, "I know that propriety might say that you and I continue with formalities, but I would much prefer something less conventional, where we will be working so closely together."

Although puzzled, the girl politely held her tongue and waited. It seemed a bit out of character for someone as powerful as Mr. Tello was, to work outside the boundaries of formality. She knew by 'word of mouth' that he was quite strict regarding regulations and rules.

Just the same, what did he mean by 'less conventional'? What exactly was he expecting from her? Miss Tanaka began to rethink her eager acceptance of this 'highly sought after' position, and it showed on her face.

Seeing the girl's hesitation, Don replied, "Ah, no worries, Miss Tanaka, I am only referring to what we shall call each other." He noticed a slight blush on the girl's face, and it amused him, causing him to chuckle a little as he furthered his comment, "Although I would expect you to address me publicly as Mr. Tello and I would refer to you as Miss Tanaka, while working together, I would much prefer that you call me 'Don'."

Almost instantly, her eyes flashed in relief, and then discomfort. Her head bowed in respect once again, and feeling a slight bit of embarrassment, "Oh, I – I don't know if I can do _that_, Sir."

"I insist," he said simply, "and I will honor you in the same way."

The girl looked up, a questioning expression crossing her face.

"Your - given name is very beautiful," he commented as he smiled softly, "and one that ought to be said…among friends."

Smiling, the girl blushed and looked away. Her ojiisan had once said that to her. Instantly and despite how different her employer was to her, the girl warmed to his spirit and his gentle kindness.

"Do…I have your permission to call you by your first name?" Don asked tenderly, searching her face for any concealed offense. He smiled inwardly when he found none.

Shyly, she nodded and replied in a near whisper, as a warm blush once again kissed her face, "Hai,"

"Then, my dear Bara," Don entreated as he pushed a few a buttons on the console built into his desk, "Let me show you where we will be working." He gestured to his left.

A soft 'whooshing' sound soon came to the girl's ears and, as she turned towards it, the wall to her right almost magically slid to one side. It revealed a room just beyond the wall's threshold, and seemed fully equipped as a laboratory. With the interior now lighting up, Bara was able to discern several tables, numerous shelves filled with an assortment of electronics, and then what seemed to be one large, wall sized computer.

It was obviously a secret room and, in that moment, Bara knew that she had finally made it to the top. Her heart began to race just a little in excitement as she thought about the many wonderful discoveries and endless amounts of research that she would be able to do in there.

Truly, this was a dream job of the most fortuitous kind, and, in that moment, Bara considered herself quite lucky.

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	2. Springtime

**Disclaimer – **I only own the plot. A bit, appreciative 'thanks' from me to Ziptango for being my beta with this chapter! Yes, she's still among the living, folks!

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**Femme Fatale**

**Chapter 2 – Springtime**

It had been too long since Bara had known a good night's sleep. In fact, she could not remember the last time when she did feel rested. As she sat in front of her laptop, she chanced a look at the clock on the wall above her, and then suddenly yawned. Remembering the wager that she had agreed to earlier, she quickly tried to stifle it by bringing her hand up over her mouth in reflex. As she did, her eyes widened in mild panic as she swung her head around to look over at Don, hoping that he hadn't heard her. Besides the bet that they had made, she really didn't want to get into another argument with him. Fortunately, he still had his back towards her, as he worked on his own laptop, apparently none the wiser.

Bara sighed in thankful relief. He knew that she was exhausted, and had insisted earlier that she quit for the night, but she had stood firm, instead, to a couple more hours.

Needless to say, he had relented and so, two hours later, here they both sat.

"You say something, Bara?" Don mumbled, not turning around, but continuing to tap at his keyboard.

"Ah, no, just – trying to figure this equation out, Don," she replied quietly, working at her own laptop. She tried to keep any irritation out of her voice and, most especially, tried her best _not_ to sound tired.

"Um…'kay," he muttered, and then he seemed to go back to his calculations once again.

The two were in the lab adjoined to Don's office, accessed through a hidden entrance in one of the walls. It was currently two in the morning with the remaining staff from the lower floors already home and, more than likely, dreaming pleasant dreams having nothing to do with work.

As much as Bara loved what she did, though, there were times when she envied her fellow researchers. Yet, she could not help but appreciate the kind of success working for Don had given to her since accepting his offer to assist him back in March of last year. In fact, her first assignment, Project 392, had become one of many defining moments and projects for her over the past twelve months of their working together. She had impressed him so much on the initial undertaking that Don decided to have her permanently assigned to his personal elite team of assistants, scientists, and researchers.

Among them was Thomas, Don's valet, except that he was more involved with making sure Don's needs were taken care of wherever he went. This evening, however, Don had given him the night off, so that Thomas could be home with his family.

Suddenly, Don stretched, his well-muscled arms reaching high above him as the rest of his body creaked in relief. His As he groaned out a contented sigh, his actions caught Bara's attention. In the beginning of their working relationship, it was something the young woman had to force herself to get used to hearing. Most people, when they stretched, didn't groan like a squeaky floorboard. Then again, most people didn't sport a shell on their back or a plastron on their chest the way Don did.

Bara half smiled as she looked over at him. "Tired, already?" she teased lightly, her sweet-sounding intonations breaking the silence.

Chuckling in his low, baritone voice, Don looked back over at her, "And you're not?"

Shrugging, Bara tilted her head up a bit and said smugly as she grinned, "I caught my second wind a while ago - I could greet the morning now."

"Liar!" her employer blurted out, laughing now, because he could tell by the strain in her eyes that his assistant was anything but ready to greet the dawn. "Seriously, we both need our beauty sleep, me more than you, so – where I'm the boss," his eyes twinkled mischievously, "I'm calling it a night for the both of us!"

"Sorry, you can't do that; you're not _that_ powerful," the girl teased back and tossed her head playfully, causing her long, black hair to undulate.

With his eyes widening in mild amusement, Don asked, "Ohhhh? Since when, my lovely Bara?"

"Since…" she replied, her eyes dancing in merriment as she quirked her head, "it's morning. No matter how rich and powerful you are, Don-san, you cannot change the earth's rotation." Bara laughed then, joined by her employer, as he closed his laptop and slipped off his stool.

Don rubbed at his eyes and then said as he looked at her, shaking his head as he did, "Ah, my dear, you always seem to be right, which I find most refreshing!" he stated simply. He yawned and worked his shoulder muscles around, trying to loosen their stiffness from being slumped over his computer for the last several hours.

"Ah ha! YOU yawned," the girl declared, almost singing, "_You_ lose!"

"Nope," he eyed her devilishly, "You lost the bet only a moment ago when you yawned first!" He chuckled, "You tried to hide it with your hand, but I heard you. Should I place my order, now, or wait until you go for lunch tomorrow?"

Now, Bara's eyes went slightly wide in surprise. As she closed her own laptop in a huff and stood up from her chair, she put her hands on her hips in mock indignation. "You heard that?" she pouted.

Snickering a little, Don shook his head, "There's not much that I don't hear, Miss Tanaka. I just decided not to argue with you, again, about staying late. Besides, it's two in the morning and what good would it do for me to debate with you about quitting for the night when I'm already planning on going home anyway."

Bara smiled and sighed, "There's no 'pulling' that wool over your eyes, is there?"

"Not usually, but there have been times," Don said somewhat soberly, and gave her a half smirk. He then turned to where his jacket hung. Plucking it off the hook on the wall, he turned back around as he shrugged into the leather coat, "Now, let me drive you home. I won't accept you taking a cab, not at this late hour." As he said this, he adjusted the fit of the coat, shaking his arms further into its sleeves and then pulling at the lapels to straighten the garment a bit better on his bulky form.

"No, Don-san, please, I can manage," Bara shook her head stubbornly, "I've yet to run into any problems getting home and I've been working like this for – what – six months now?"

"Yes, that may be true. However, according to the theory of probability, your absence of problems could change on a moment's notice." Don stated, and then insisted, "_And_ I prefer not taking any chances. I'm driving you home, so no arguments!"

His gaze took on a hard determination, yet a kindness edged his face as well. Bara knew that when he acted like this, there wasn't any more arguing with him. She was just grateful that he had saved his posturing for now, rather than two hours before, when a new twist in solving the problem had come to her. Yet, even that avenue had proved fruitless, putting her even further away from figuring out their current situation. It was quite frustrating too, where she rarely found anything so challenging that it would take more than a day to work out. As it was, a week had already gone by without any success in finding the answer. Being tired certainly didn't help either. "_Yes,"_ she silently agreed with him, _"a fresh start in the morning might make all the difference in the world."_

Now, with Don's insistence about driving her, and Bara's resolve weakening only because of her frustrated exhaustion, she gave in, "Fine, you can drive me, _Mr. Tello_, but – only as far as the front door of the lobby. I can see myself in the rest of the way."

Smiling victoriously, Don's mood brightened, his eyes twinkling from the reflective light of the overhead illumination, "No problem, Miss Tanaka, my chariot awaits thee!" and he bowed low before her, swinging one arm towards the 'door' of the laboratory, as if formally showing her the way.

Bara giggled as she turned back to the lab desk, her lilting voice echoing pleasantly in the room, "I can just see _you_ driving a horse-drawn cart." She looked back at him for a moment to see his reaction.

Still slightly bent over in his mock-formal bow, Don looked up and good-naturedly corrected her as he grinned, "It would be a carriage, my dear, encrusted with diamonds as brightly lit as your smile." As he straightened, he noticed her amused reaction, her petit mouth widening in a pleased grin. It was then that Don saw Bara anew, and he suddenly felt his heart tighten ever so slightly.

She did indeed have a bright and engaging smile that much was certain, and it paired up very nicely with the girl's gentle, yet friendly personality. With how it affected him, her smile reminded Don of the sun rising after a long and stormy night.

_"When was the last time someone touched me like this,"_ he asked himself.

A name then came to mind, its sudden intrusion almost startling him. Mindy Johnson.

In that moment, Don's jovial mood sobered just a little as he thought of his first crush.

Mindy was a woman that two of his brothers had rescued less than a decade ago, when he and they were still living in the sewers. He had taken care of her, a victim of a mugging, and through that relationship, he had fallen in love. She was an engaging woman who had greatly affected Don in a most profound way. Even though she had been much older than he was at the time, twice his age in fact, it wasn't something that discouraged Don at all, despite her insistence that it should. As it was, she had eventually returned his feelings, only to lose any real opportunity for the two of them to explore a relationship.

Still, Min had touched him deeply, and for the first time in his young life, Donatello had felt the stirrings of his heart.

Unfortunately, after Mindy had left the lair for a meeting with a friend, the Foot's sudden invasion of their home forced Don and his family to flee the city. If it were not for the vehicle that Mindy had graciously given to them, Don knew that he and his brothers - and sensei, would probably still be living somewhere under the streets of New York City, existing in obscurity, and adding to the many mysteries that existed in the sewers. It would have been that…or they would now be dead.

_"Probably the latter,"_ Don sighed to himself, and huffed a bit.

As it was, they did escape, ending up in New Mexico – where a sheriff's deputy discovered them. The following seven years became a whirlwind of events that redefined to the world what intelligent life was and, more importantly, expanded the understanding of equal rights.

Just the same, even with all of his wealth and power, Don had lost touch with the woman. The only news he ever had on Mindy was through Mike, who had made a concentrated effort during the past two years to visit her from time to time. For that, Don was glad and relieved. Mike was probably better at keeping in touch, anyway, since Don was too busy, Raphael too involved with his own personal demons, and Leo and Splinter were too far away where they lived in Japan.

As Don stood there watching Bara clean up her workspace, and as he considered his feelings for the moment, he felt a sudden twinge of guilt rip at his heart. Don knew that he owed Min a lot. He also knew that he had screwed up enormously with her. As much as he would have liked to change that, however, too much time had passed for him to undo the damage.

Nevertheless, when he had heard through Mike that Mindy had returned to her teaching job and, more recently, was currently dating, Don felt happiness for her. It still pained him that he had let her slip beyond his reach when he first went public, yet he often wondered since then if they could have made their relationship work.

Just the same, he had to recognize, too, that at least she was able to move on with her life and find some measure of happiness and success. For that, Don was glad. Mindy deserved it and so much more.

Nevertheless, as he stood there in his lab,he sighed quietly. "_Maybe I could still give Min a call, just to apologize."_ he wondered glumly.

Despite his pensive mood, here he was gazing upon another woman, a younger beautiful woman, even, and immensely charming as well. Although Bara was not the first attractive woman to cross his path, Don was not stupid either. He knew that he was not that attractive to humans, especially of the opposite sex. He was far too different physically.

No, he learned quite early on that what attracted the masses to him had been his money – and his power. If not the wealthy and influential fathers eager to marry their daughters off to someone as rich as Don, then the gold diggers who threw themselves at him had given him choices that would be the envy of most men. Of course, all of these women were beautiful, but physical attributes were never something that Don had found particularly tempting.

However, keen intellect was, and Mindy had been very intelligent, as was Bara. Only Bara seemed to surpass Min in that department. Since she had come on board with him, the young woman virtually astounded Don on more than a few occasions, nearly equaling him with her near genius. Working side by side with him on their first project together, Project 392, Bara had helped to create the first security system that read DNA as an identification track. It was what furthered his influence in the world and what fattened his bank account even more. It had been the defining moment in their working relationship, too.

As he stood there now and watched as the girl cleaned up her workspace, he thought about Bara's wit. It was somewhat similar to Mindy's, but with a little more reservation, given her strict upbringing. Although her decorum had been very traditional Japanese in the beginning, after a time the girl learned to relax and became fun to work with. In fact, their repartee from only moments before was a good example of how easy-going she could be around Don.

Of course, he had to observe that she was especially tired, too, which – when that happened – the girl could also flip the proverbial 'coin' and become irritable. Earlier, the way that she had insisted about staying for a few more hours had been a good example. He smiled inwardly at the recent memory too. He was always mildly amused whenever Bara would spout off, and, in hindsight, he much preferred those who stood their ground when needed, believing that anyone who did otherwise was weak.

Don suddenly blinked and realized with some embarrassment that he had zoned out for a moment. He sighed in relief when he noticed that Bara had been too busy getting her own coat to notice. As Don looked over at her and as he watched her grab up her jacket and slip it on, a small infectious smile spread along his muzzle. The overhead light was basking her in its golden glow, crowning her head with an almost ethereal halo, and which defined her almost blue-black hair in contrast. Her slim, shapely form was most appealing, with her slacks and tight sweater outlining a trim body.

He suddenly shook his head, though, and dismissed these thoughts, growling inwardly at himself. He was her employer, after all, and she was only a worker, hired to do a job. Yet, try as he could, Don had to admit that over the course of the past year, he had begun to look upon Bara Tanaka as someone that was more than just a simple hired employee of Tello Industry. He was beginning to see her as a good friend.

Just the same, he sighed in resolution. Don knew that, as her boss, he had to keep himself from delving into something more than just working with her in the lab. It absolutely would not do well for her reputation, or for his, if a romance blossomed between them.

"This way, milady," he quickly offered, overriding his feelings for the moment. As she turned towards him to leave, Don gently brushed his hand along the top button on the wall. Soon after, part of it immediately and silently slid open to reveal his office on the other side.

Bara smiled and then slipped past him and on out of the laboratory, followed closely by Don as the door returned to its jamb. Soon, it resembled a wall again, hiding Don's secret lab once more.

After a short bit of time descending in Don's private elevator, they arrived in the basement of the building. After a short walk, the two of them were soon standing next to his car. With a flourish, Don opened the passenger side to allow Bara to slip inside and sit down. After closing the door, he quickly moved around the car to the driver's side and was soon sitting behind the wheel. It didn't take long for Don to put the vehicle in motion. Driving it up the exit ramp and out of the bowels of the garage, and then passing over his DNA security sensors that activated the gates, he soon had the car out onto the streets of New York City.

At first, as Don guided the car through the nearly deserted and softly lit streets of New York City, they engaged in idle chitchat. They discussed the problem they had been working on, and various other work-related topics, too. After several yawns, though, Bara quieted, and Don sensed her need for peace. Reluctantly, he gave it to her, keeping his eyes on the road ahead and enjoying the depth of night in relative quiet.

Don Tello knew the way to her home well. In fact, he owned the building where she lived, with Bara residing in the penthouse that crowned the moderately sized skyscraper.

Overall, the concrete and glass structure soared some forty stories into the New York City skyline, an impressive bit of architecture that represented the affluence of Fifth Avenue well. Besides the offices below, it provided Don's personal elite group of scientists and researchers, as well as his contingency of trained security personnel, with a living style that would otherwise be unattainable. Part of his reasoning behind his generosity was to give to them a kind of residence that was equal to the quality of work he expected from them, thereby ensuring their loyalty.

He paid for all of their expenses, too, other than food, cars, and recreation, yet he also secretively outfitted their town homes and penthouses with hidden cameras and recording devices. At the very least, he did so if only to ward against betrayal. He did use propriety, of course, in the placement of such devices. However, his years fighting against the Foot played an integral roll with his decision to bug his workers' living space.

To the casual critic, it might have smacked of invasion of privacy and on more than one occasion, his brothers teased him about voyeurism. Still, Don's paranoia had paid off twice for him, the cameras exposing two scientists who had tried to sell his secrets to another company.

They had disguised the attempted sale as a simple get-together during one Thanksgiving celebration, which involved both scientists and their supposed families. The only problem was that one 'family' member had already found themselves on Don's 'black' list of suspected techno-hijackers. When the hidden camera exposed the man's identity and whereabouts, its matrix mainframe - already programmed to recognize potential enemies, immediately sounded an alarm, first alerting Thomas, and then Don through their pagers.

What followed next found both scientists and hijacker at the biting end of Don's wrath - and strict rebuttal.

As far as Don was concerned, though, that outcome justified his actions and silenced his brothers' criticism for good.

As it was, Thomas had impressed Don so much with his service and loyalty, that the turtle felt it insulting to question the man's trust with any type of hidden camera. Consequently, the man lived in one of the few camera-free apartments. In fact, he had happily found the man in accord with him about the need for such measures. Considering the sophistication of Don's inventions, and that many of them were government sensitive, it almost demanded such intrusive electronics.

As for the hidden cameras, though, Bara's penthouse was no exception. In fact, months before her interview and when alerted to her qualifications, Don had insisted through Thomas that Bara have a servant. In reality, the housekeeper had become his informant for the girl's behavior and habits. It was how Thomas was able to provide Don with such detailed and intimate accounts of the girl, before she had stepped inside in his office for the first time.

That had been a year ago, and now Don was confident that Bara was as trustworthy as his valet had proved himself to be.

After a twenty minute drive and as Don neared Bara's building, he glanced over at the girl. He smiled when he saw that she had fallen asleep and currently slumped against the window. Where it was still chilly during the deepest part of the night, her gentle breath fogged the glass. Moreover, no longer did exhaustion etch her face, but it was now relaxed and almost angelic in appearance.

Again, Don's chest tightened, and with the same feeling that he had for Mindy years ago. Keeping his attention to the road ahead of him, he glanced occasionally at his sleeping passenger. Considering his surprising new feelings, Don wondered if maybe the working relationship he had with her was a little _too_ close. Yes, they did get along quite well, if their teasing from earlier was an indication. There were even times when they could finish each other's sentences, which amused Don to no end.

Just the same, he shook his head, certain that even if he did feel something for Bara, he didn't believe that she could feel anything for him; at least, not in that way. Because, despite who he was in the world, despite his power and wealth, Don knew that people still saw him as nothing more than a mutated turtle with human attributes and, more importantly, as a completely different species.

_"No,"_ he shrugged determinedly as he said silently, _"it just wouldn't be fair to the girl, with all that she's sacrificing, with the time she's given to me and the lab."_ He quickly looked over at her and sighed, a subtle frown of regret creasing his face, _"She should have companions, and…a boyfriend befitting her beauty." _He then returned his gaze to the road ahead, a steely determination replacing the longing of his heart.

Soon, they were at her building with Don driving the car down into the underground garage. He slowed slightly, allowing the security system to activate. It was imperative that all cars that belonged there, or belonging to Tello Industries, be fitted with microchip identity sensors. The moment any crossed over the receptor grid just inside the garage, a laser would scan the car and the confirmation of the electronic ID would initiate the first of two gated barriers. The first one would let the car in, allowing the vehicle to ease just beyond its threshold.

However, with the second gate still engaged in the closed position, it would force the driver to stop. The first gate would then close, temporarily trapping the car and driver. Immediately, a DNA scan would cross in front of the car's windshield from right to left, taking in the driver's personal biological identity and anyone else in the car. After that, if the security sensor seemed satisfied with the results, the second gate would then open, allowing the car and its occupant's access into the remaining part of the garage. With the first gate in the closed position, this prevented any would-be interloper from following the car in, as often happened in other buildings with less sophisticated security measures.

This was one invention that Don was most proud of – and one that encompassed Project 392, the very project that Bara had worked on first.

As Don drove the car into the garage and guided the vehicle towards the elevators, he looked once more over at the girl in the seat next to him. "Bara, we're here," he called to her softly.

She didn't respond.

He smiled, "Bara, dear, you're home."

She stirred a little, and then settled deeper into the window, nestling into the side of her door. She was obviously in the deep part of her sleep.

Sighing, Don returned his concentration to driving, guiding the car up one aisle and down the other towards his destination.

To Don, it seemed as if Bara was deep into whatever sleep in which she seemed to be languishing. In fact, if he was not mistaken and if his ears were as sharp as he knew them to be, she seemed to be snoring just a little. He smiled and as a chuckle tried to work its way up from his diaphragm, he quickly shoved it back down. Just the same, Don could tell that she was thoroughly exhausted, and he could sense that no amount of gentle waking would successfully rouse her. After finding a closely situated parking spot near the elevators, he quietly put the car in park and then sat there.

As he watched her, he wondered what to do now. He could budge her a bit, maybe gently shake her awake, but then that might startle her. He could speak a bit louder to her, but he would probably end up with the same results. The last thing he wanted to do was to scare her half to death or embarrass her.

Sighing, he knew that he had only one other option; and he knew that she would probably not appreciate it.

As he sighed in resolution, Don finally made up his mind; the only way to get her to her apartment would be to carry her. What he would do once he had her up there, well, hopefully, she would wake up by then. Don shuddered at the thought of trying to put the girl to bed. That just smacked of impropriety all the way around. _"Maybe I can just leave her on her couch, cover her up with a blanket or something,"_ he quickly thought to himself, _"and get out of there before she wakes up!"_ He shook his head,_ "How do I manage to get myself in these spots..."_ His thoughts went back to Mindy, a slow grin creasing his muzzle as he recalled her shocked, embarrassed face, while she stared up at him in that bathtub, desperately clutching at that shower curtain as she lay butt-naked on her rear. Don gave a silent chuckle at the memory, and renewed his vow from earlier to give the woman soon.

Nevertheless, he slipped quietly out of his car and gently pushed his door closed. Not wasting any time, he quickly went around the passenger side and opened it. He had to catch Bara as she further slumped into the door that was now no longer there, and even with that sudden move, she was still too deep in her sleep to notice.

Don smiled. So angelic was her face, so gentle was her breathing, that even with her soft snoring, she charmed him. The tightening in his chest returned once again. He gently stroked his finger along her left check, feeling the silky smoothness of her skin, as her face nestled comfortably against his arm. A longing tried to seep its way into his very being, but, with his resolve solid, he ignored. Bending down and slipping his right arm under her legs, he effortlessly lifted her out of the car. After closing the door with his right foot, Don then headed towards the private elevator with Bara firmly ensconced in his arms.

Bara's penthouse had its own elevator, yet it still had a similar identity scan as the entrance to the garage did. Once the electronic workings of the system seemed satisfied with whom Don was, the double doors parted open. He slipped inside, and as he did, the doors closed swiftly behind him.

After he activated the penthouse button and as the elevator began its smooth assent, Don adjusted Bara a little. She wasn't the least bit heavy, but she had relaxed a bit more, and so her weight had shifted. As he balanced his hold on her, hefting her up just a little higher against his shoulder, Bara's head now lay along the top of his plastron. With her face tucked neatly into his neck as he held her, she unconsciously wiggled her head even closer. Suddenly, a gentle whoosh of warm air expelled from her slightly parted lips as she breathed, tickling his neck.

Don shivered with then his eyes growing slightly wide. This was not working out at all. He wanted to get the girl home and in her bed. Becoming sexually aroused over her was not on his agenda. He gave a panicky sideways glance at her face, and then rolled his eyes away in frustration, his heart swelling again from the vision he held in his embrace.

_"No, no, no, Donny, you must stay away from thi_s," he chided himself desperately, trying a light bit of meditation to dispel his reaction to her.

Still, during the forty-story ride in the elevator as it ascended to the penthouse level, he just could not stop looking at the girl. No matter what he did to try to dispel the feelings that he felt, in a rush the past year of working with Bara came back to him. Without even trying, he kept clicking off the many times that they had had dinner together while they worked, the meals brought up to his office by his personal cooking staff. He never gave it a thought whether they even cared about what was going on between them, as Don's intent had been purely honorable. Still, he wondered what it looked like to the staff. Had he already compromised the girl's reputation? As he wondered about this, he also wondered if maybe he was only in denial about how he felt for her.

And then he realized, almost as if an epiphany had slapped him across the face, that he was truly attracted to her. Slightly amused with himself, he began to see that he had been from the every start. Why else would he have mentioned to Thomas about how 'lovely' she seemed at the time, when he first interviewed her. Where he was only a year older, and even though he would normally not care, the age difference seemed perfect.

However, the fact that he was reptilian and she was mammalian challenged that notion, which was why he had never given it any thought about having an intimate relationship with Bara - until now.

Now, as he held her, as he felt her warm, sweet breath upon his neck, Don's logic took a serious nosedive. As he felt his 'resolve dissolve', he was finding it easier to consider the possibility of developing a closer friendship with the young woman. How he would do that without offending her or violating some employer/employee sacred rule or protocol was the tricky part.

As the elevator slowed it approach to the penthouse floor and just before the doors would open, Bara stirred in Don's arms. He looked at her quickly, almost in panic, hoping against hope that she was still in her dream state and only that.

However, despite Don's good fortune with many other ventures, no such luck would prevail this evening.

"Don…" she said sleepily, "wh...what are you doing?" she asked between sleepy, confused lids.

"Um…" Don quirked his mouth, as if caught stealing cookies, "I – ah – couldn't wake you, so – I – ah, decided to carry you up to your apartment," he smiled sheepishly at her, his grin weakening by the second.

"Oh," she said in reply, her voice thick and drowsy. She closed her eyes again, as if his words had not quite registered.

Then, suddenly it did. "WHAT? You're _carrying_ me?" Her eyes were now wide with surprise and shock at being so close to his face. She was also a bit embarrassed too. Quickly, she squirmed around to try to extricate herself from Don's arms, and he readily complied, setting her down lightly onto her feet.

For a moment, Don saw 'Mindy', that same surprised and shocked expression on Bara's face that Min had, when he had come barreling into that bathroom so long ago to 'rescue' her.

Just as quickly though, he was riveted back to the present, as he heard Bara stammer, causing him to smile a little.

"I'm – so – ah, embarrassed. I'm sorry, Don-san, ah, _Mr. Tello_, I didn't mean…" she began in earnest, her face flushing to a deep rosy red as she smoothed out her jacket and pants, all of a sudden intensely self-conscious about how she looked.

"I - didn't mind, Bara," he said softly, trying not to sound husky, yet it edged his words and his smile just the same.

Seeing that the elevator door was opening, Bara saw her escape. She nodded once to Don, almost formally, as she attempted to exit the lift, "Th-thank you for bringing me home. I – I think I can see the rest of the way to my door."

"Well, I'm already this far, I don't mind walking you there, Bara," Don said cheerily, and then took her right arm in hand and guided her out of the elevator. He did this so fast that he had her out of the lift before Bara could sputter a decline. The doors closed immediately, leaving the two of them in the hallway in front of the penthouse suites.

Now, as Don stood there, with Bara's door in front of them and representing one of the two residences at that level, he waited. He wondered what in heaven he was doing, but a greater part of him hoped for what she might do next.

Bara again apologized, "I'm so sorry for falling asleep like that. I-I guess I was tired, after all," she laughed lightly, trying to regain her composure, and then allowed him to steer her towards her front door. As they came to it, she hastily placed her palm on the ID grid embedded into the wall next to it. A bluish scan from fingertip to palm slid under her hand and then, a gentle 'click' sounded out, with the door automatically opening.

Bara swallowed. She liked Don – a lot, in fact. After a year of working with him, she did not see Don as a mutant anymore, but as her employer, friend, and colleague. His physical uniqueness only added interest to his already charming personality. Bara found him kind, considerate, generous, and when he was relaxed, incredibly funny. He had a wicked wit equal to his genius that would often send her into hysterics, but that only happened when she was tired and had temporarily forgotten her manners. Even when she seemed terribly irritable, he was always very patient with her.

Then again, she consistently gave him her best and never complained about the amount of time she had to spend working in the lab with him. Of course, she liked working for him, so it was a pleasure more than a chore. Maybe he was so giving to her because she always made sure never to give him reasons not to be. It was a thought that made her wonder.

As she took in a deep breath and looked over at him, she suddenly saw something in his eyes that had not been there before. It was something that made her wonder even more than before.

Desire.

Bara caught her breath as it hitched. _"I - must be **really** tired to imagine that!"_ she mused to herself, almost chuckling. Yet, the more she looked up at Don, the deeper she gazed into the pools of his chocolate-brown eyes and saw the unmistakable glint of affection, something changed within her. She felt a warming of her own heart and soul, now, a sudden tightening in her gut that said in that moment that, whatever they were together as colleagues was no longer relevant.

Don grinned, then, almost sensing the shift in the girl's previously insecure feelings. He could tell in that moment that both of them had taken a turn in their relationship.

Bara replied to Don's expression with one of her own, her smile casual and inviting. Then, surprising even herself, she offered shyly, "Would…you like to come in for a cup of tea?"

Don quickly weighed his options. He knew what his heart wanted, what it longed for. Yet, he asked himself briefly if propriety would allow him to have a close relationship with the girl. Nevertheless, the expression in her eyes and on her face told him that, at the very least and for a simple cup of tea, she was willing. In that moment, he looked down at his watch and then at Bara, smiling warmly as he said, "It's kind of late, but – ah, yes; I think I would like that very much."

In reflex, Bara smiled wider and then entwined her arm into his. After the two of them eased across the threshold and into the penthouse together, the door slowly closed behind them locking into place.

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**_COMMENTS –_**_My thanks and gratitude for all who are reading my little story and for those who left a review. _

**_JESSIY LANDROZ, _****_ZIPTANGO, _****_CHIBI ROSE ANGEL, _****_LUNAR-NINJA, _****_PRETENDER FANATIC, _****_RELUCTANT DRAGON, _****_RAMICA_**


	3. Summertime

**_DISCLAIMER: _**_Again, I don't own them, I just like to play with them. Beta read by the ever-talented, yet rarely seen these days, Ziptango! _

**_Author's_****_ Notes:_**_ I know that some people might not like this particular Donatello. Suffice it to say, I do, if only because he is doing what he was destined to do – invent life-changing 'contraptions' and improving life in general world-wide, and be more than he can be elsewhere. However, I am hoping that the kind of Don he became in Rahab will be explained here in Femme Fatale. Defining moments can force startling changes in how we react to the world and those around us. I am certain that many of you understand this fact all too terribly well. _

_Also__, some of you might have formed a strong dislike for Bara from Rahab's story. Again, Femme Fatale just might allow you to re-consider that POV. The proverbial 'tortured soul' syndrome just doesn't even begin to label her angst._

_Where this chapter opens, please know that I do not support Don and Bara's decision as to how far they have taken their relationship, even though I'm the one who wrote it. Yet, I have to keep in mind that Don is now 'of the world', and therefore has adapted to 'the world's' view on such matters. To me, keeping him in character is as important as writing about a real person and chronicling their life story. Enough said on that._

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**Femme Fatale**

**Chapter 3 – Summertime**

Don jerked awake to feel his heart pounding, as if it would jump right out of his plastron, but then he realized why. Next to him, Bara was screaming.

"Bara, sweetheart, wake up," he gently said, reaching over and affectionately laying his right arm upon her waist. She was on her back and wreathing in agony, yet was still very much asleep. Despite wanting to, though, Don refrained from pulling her into him. He was mindful of the fact that she was still in her dream-state and not yet fully aware of his presence.

"Uh, uh, no, NO, please, NO, PLEASE, I don't want to, NO!" she cried out and thrashed around some more, her unconscious mind assaulting her. Bara's face grimaced from the dream, her eyes shut tight and creasing at the edges as she 'fought' her inner demons.

"BARA, please wake up, _honey_," Don entreated desperately and a little more loudly than before.

Once again it seemed as if his beloved, and himself, would not be getting a good night's sleep. It was one of countless times in the past four months that nightmares had been plaguing his fiancé. The young woman would scream out, pleading with someone to stop whatever it was 'they' were forcing her to do in her subconscious. Shortly after that and with Don's gentle coaxing, she would wake up. The most disturbing aspect of it, however, was that Bara was unable to remember anything about what she had dreamt. Even when Don attempted a meditative joining of his mind with hers, something that his father had taught to him and his three brothers many years ago, he could not get her to recall her disturbing phantasms. Even when she was in the middle of her torment, he just could not make contact. It was as if a barrier was there to prevent him from doing so.

Nevertheless, it was all very unsettling and quite frustrating for both of them.

Still, the longer Don lay there with her in their bed, and the more he talked to her, before too long Bara slowly opened her eyes. Her skin was now moist from the resulting internal fight. Perspiration coated her arms and upper torso, while her hair matted in wet strands along her face. From her damp pillow, she looked up desperately into her lover's face as he peered down at her with worry.

She then began to cry.

Reaching out to him, "_Why_ can't I remember them, why?" she wailed into his embrace as he pulled her up to him. "All they do is leave me feeling panicky and, and, _desperate_, like something _bad_ is going to happen."

Don rolled back over onto his carapace, bringing his beloved with him. He held her firmly in his arms. Affectionately, he whispered words in Japanese to her in order to soothe her spirit. He kissed the top of her head and softly stroked her left shoulder that poked out from under the silken bedcovers.

He finally sighed. "I – don't know why you can't remember, my dear," he said. "We've tried everything, from conventional to non conventional means, just to figure it out." With Bara's head nestled just under Don's chin, he looked down at her and saw her tear-stained face. While he embraced her with his left arm, he brought his right hand over and gently wiped the wetness away, "Maybe you're just nervous about the wedding."

She didn't say anything at first, allowing the peaceful night to once again fill their expansive bedroom. Currently, they were at Don's mansion in Croton-on-the-Hudson, halfway through a two-month respite from the lab in New York City. Don thought for sure getting away from the stress and pressures of the job was what she needed. Yet, still her dreams harassed her, and now he wondered if maybe, just maybe, she might be nervous about going back to Japan.

"Are you concerned about visiting your homeland again?" he asked her quietly.

Bara sighed, and said with a voice strained with emotion, "I – don't know. You know that I used to go back every spring around the time that my grandfather died just to honor him for the sacrifices he made in raising me." She paused, and then commented, "But…I stopped going…when I began working in your lab, it was as if…I had finally found what I was supposed to do. I thought for sure my grandfather would have supported this decision, but…maybe he didn't?" She looked up into Don's face, a worried questioning look now crossing her own, "Maybe my dreams are his way of saying...he disapproves?" Her voice trailed off with that thought, her eyes now brimming a new with a fresh supply of tears.

Don smiled, hugging her, "Bara, dear, I don't think your grandfather would have disapproved of me, had he lived long enough to have met me," Don cooed soothingly, and then he said more seriously as he gently admonished her, "Besides, the dead can't communicate with the living anyway. I don't believe in any of that stuff – and _you're_ intelligent enough to know better." He kissed her head again and then lifted her a little, bringing her closer to him. With the same hand that had wiped her tears away, he tipped her chin up a bit. Now, as she looked into his dark comforting eyes, she saw his gentle expression and it calmed her heart. As a result and with her mouth slightly parted, her breathing slowed down a little. Don smiled and leaned in to take in her lips, giving her a long, sustained kiss, and pulling her even closer to himself.

In reflex, she wrapped her left arm around his neck, drawing herself into him and deepening their embrace. After they broke apart, she slipped down again to lay her head along his plastron, listening contentedly to the gentle rhythm of his heart through the hard surface of his chest. As he continued to hold her, stroking her bare back, he hummed a little.

Bara smiled; he always did that, right after she woke up from her nightmares. In a strange way, it reminded her of a cat's purr, but it was more deliberate than that, and deeper. She knew that Don was only trying to ease her mind back to sleep again, and to calm her tortured spirit. "You know, if you're not careful, Mr. Tello," she said as she sniffed and a bit of a tease in her voice, "I'm going to have to set a bowl of milk out for you."

Don chuckled, which only encouraged Bara to laugh, as well. Soon, he was tickling her, and receiving the same in return. It almost turned into an all-out wrestling match in their bed, with Bara giggling in near hysterics, as Don seemed to get the better of her. Yet, before too long, they were embracing once more as they kissed deeply.

After a while, he slipped out from under her and turned Bara onto her back with a kiss. After easing himself on top of her, he deepened his caress of her lips with his. In time, and as they progressed their affection for one another, they found themselves ending the night that had begun in terror, to one of passion.

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Thankfully, over the next several weeks, Bara's dreams gradually abated with the rest of her time at the mansion apparently easing what nightmares had terrified her. She was able to get the needed rest that Don believed would help her. By the time they returned to New York City, her disturbing dreams had nearly disappeared all together. At any rate, it only proved his point that 'rest' was what she had truly needed and not a line-up of money-hungry psychologists.

Now, she could focus on their wedding plans.

Nevertheless, one month after returning from Croton-on-the-Hudson, they found themselves in the middle of yet another, demanding project.

"Don!" Bara called out again, this time with a little more irritation, "please stay _focused_!"

"Yes, dear, I am," he said hurriedly and abruptly. He straightened in his chair as he startled just a bit, his momentary distraction now dissipating. He realized that he had been daydreaming and – well, now was not the time; things had become critical.

"This is important, Don; probably the most important part of our '_project'_," she admonished him lightly, reminding him with those words about the gravity of the situation.

"I know, dear," he agreed in attempted interest, although the slightly glazed expression on his face suggested otherwise.

"We need to come to a conclusion before next week, because if we don't…" she explained gently, now trying to soothe her irritation, "we'll be in trouble." She smiled gently at him, realizing that Don was completely out of his element.

Just the same, watching his fiancé trying on wedding dresses was as painful to him as having his nails ripped from his fingertips, but – Don was seriously trying to stay 'with the program'. Nevertheless, his mind would wander, drifting over to more interesting things to think about. Things such as observing how the light twisted and turned through the beveled glass doors of the wedding boutique they were currently visiting. He thanked his boredom, then, for showing him the wonders (and diversion) of such things as 'light refractions'.

In any event, he suddenly mused in irritation, _"How many stores does she need to visit before she finds 'THE' dress." He continued silently to complain to himself, "And, why in heaven do I have to come along?"_

He shook his head at that thought, truly confused as to why she believed he should even care. He only cared about changing her name to Mrs. Tello; he cared only for finally getting the girl of his dreams. Yet, as Don glanced her way, as he watched her turn in small slow circles in front of the tri-fold mirror and assessed the 'umpteenth' wedding dress she was trying on, he could not help but smile.

Yes, the dress was striking, its sleeveless bodice and full, ballroom, floor-length skirt littered with pearls and sequence. Its five-thousand dollar price tag indicated its value, yet, clothes or no clothes, his Bara was probably the most breath-taking vision he had ever seen.

_"Maybe I could talk her into wearing nothing at all?"_ he wondered silently to himself, his interest growing anew. Still, he quickly dismissed the thought, slightly shaking his head again as he imagined the look of horror on her face, and then that flash of fire he knew so well.

It wasn't that Bara was ever truly mad at him, but she did have spunk. It reminded him of someone else, too.

Nevertheless, despite that, she was the most gentle of creatures, and it was something that appeased his need for such things. With the kind of desperate life that he had lived before emerging from the sewers, and then with the hectic success that followed, Bara was like a warm, gentle wind to his burdened soul. As he thought about that, his heart swelled with the love he had for her.

It was enough to give him the wherewithal to maintain his vigilance as the '_interested'_ partner.

Later, and no closer to finding 'The Dress', Bara and Don were taking in an early dinner at the very top of one of the most splendid skyscrapers in all of New York City – and, of course, it just happened to be one that Don had purchased the year before. They were currently eating his private dining room, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breath-taking view of the New York City skyline and the Statue of Liberty. As they ate, the sun was slowly edging its way towards its western arch. With long shadows growing along the eastern side of the city's skyscrapers, their hungry 'fingers' grappled towards the Atlantic coastline as the afternoon stretched towards evening.

As they partook of their meal, Don sat in contemplative silence. He could feel his beloved's frustration from where he sat and, glancing over at her, he could tell that she was just a bit sad, too. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked softly between bites.

Shrugging, she shook her head as she gazed out the windows towards the view, "You'd be short-changed, I'm afraid," she muttered solemnly.

Laughing lightly, Don chuckled, "Oh, I don't know about that, Bara. Your thoughts are worth their weight in gold to me," he smiled.

As her fingers drummed impatiently alongside her plate, he reached over the small, intimate table, and gently took her hand in his.

Giving her a little squeeze, he encouraged, "I know that most brides tend to worry a great deal about 'looking radiant' on their day, but – my love – you should only worry about how I see you and not anyone else." He smiled then, "You are more radiant in your lab coat than if this room was filled with a _thousand_ suns!" He then brought her hand up to meet his lips, leaned in towards her, and tenderly kissed her fingers.

"Not in public, Don," she gently admonished him, pulling her hand away teasingly. She then quickly glanced around to see if any of the servers had notice, "you know displays of that kind embarrass me."

With one eye ridge cocked mischievously, Don teased, "Um, really? Well, you just might challenge me to take you in my arms right here and plant a juicy one right on your lips!"

Her eyes went slightly wide, "You - wouldn't - dare!" she words tumbled out in sudden mock-fear, but then Bara realized that he probably would and daring him was not the brightest thing to do, "Never mind, I know you're just kidding and I know _you_ wouldn't put me in that kind of position."

Appealing to his propriety was always the smart response, especially when he had that 'gleam' in his eyes, as he had now.

Realizing she had enlisted one of his most important points on protocol, Don retreated, smiling, "Oh, my Bara, you certainly know how to back-peddle!" and then the two of them laughed a little. "Honestly, though, I would never embarrass you. However, I do have a suggestion about your – ah – _our_…current problem." He took up another bite of his meal, chewing expectantly as he saw his fiancé's face brighten.

"Oh, and I thought your shopping for wedding dresses with me was as exciting as watching grass grow?" Bara gently challenged, a grin edging her mouth.

"It is, but…" he looked up at her and gave one of his devilishly charming smiles, "but I have an idea, just the same." Don sipped from his glass of wine, looking over the rim as he studied her. Sitting his glass back down on the table, he continued when he saw her interest perk up, "What about something traditionally Japanese. After all, we are getting married in Japan, and it would only be expected…"

Bara's sudden expression of excitement interrupted him, however.

"OH! That's PERFECT, Don, why didn't I think of that?" she gushed, leaping up and rushing over to wrap her arms around him, completely forgetting the setting they were in. Almost immediately, she saw that the servers and waiters had turned their attention to her rather loud exclamation.

Nevertheless, when she realized what she had done and as she tried to push away from him, Bara found herself trapped in Don's arms as he wrapped them securely around her. Pulling her onto his lap despite the resistance she tried to give him, he grinned as he said, "Because, my dear, I'm the genius here, remember?"

Now resigned to be where she was, Bara giggled as she touched her nose to his snout, "Oh, only by two points, but – I have to say that those two points just made my day!"

"And," he added with a smirk, "mine, as well. As it is, I have things to do, I'm afraid, that will see me gone for the next couple of days." He sighed, not at all pleased with leaving his Bara alone; he so enjoyed being with her.

Somewhat crestfallen with his sudden plans, although they were nothing out of the ordinary, Bara gently whined, "Again? But, there are so many other things to do. The – the menu, the flowers, the…"

"My dear," Don said softly, touching his fingers to her lips to quiet her, "if you are going to wear a traditional Japanese dress, then I suggest that you also festoon the occasion with like traditions regarding the food and the flowers. I know that you've been here in the states for most of your adult life, but I'm certain you can remember what customs are like in Japan."

"You don't care, then, what I choose?" Bara asked.

"No, so long as you are happy, that's the only thing I care about," he replied sincerely. "And, I am not saying that because I hate shopping. I am saying that because I really do care for your happiness. You've made _me_ so very happy, that it's the least I can do for _you_." He grinned, quite pleased with his response and her reaction.

Wrapping her arms around him, Bara bubbled out, "You are the most amazing, wonderful man in the entire world," and then, forgetting her own propriety, she planted a deep, longing kiss on_ his_ mouth. It surprised Don for only a moment, but then he eagerly returned the gesture, both of them ignoring the casual stares from his staff.

As they parted, Don quirked his eye ridge once more at Bara, smirking sheepishly. He then added another thought to the subject at hand as he cocked his head, "Of course, I wouldn't mind if that menu included some sushi!"

--------------------

The next evening, Bara was in their Fifth Avenue penthouse that she shared with Don. He had flown out to Russia only a few hours before with his brother, Raphael, leaving her behind to manage his business. Along with working in the lab downtown, she was now helping him with his schedule and other details to his large company. Currently she was in his penthouse office, going over a list of prospective investors for his latest invention. Most of them were from overseas and representing countries that had once lived under communist rule. Now, with their newfound freedom, many entrepreneurs were emerging from these countries, eager to engage with commerce and to experience financial success.

As it was, Don had found that Bara had a gift for discerning the written word, her ability to read between the lines of the many proposals a bonus in their relationship. She was as much of a valuable asset to Don's business in administration as she had been with helping him with their many projects in the lab.

Sitting there in his den, now, she was checking over the finer detail of a particular proposal.

Suddenly, the phone rang.

Bara allowed the automated receiver to answer the call, continuing to concentrate on the papers in front of her. She was sitting in Don's over-stuffed office chair, leaning back with a cup of tea in one hand, while the contracts in question were in her other. She yawned a bit, and then glanced over to the clock on the desk. It was one o'clock in the morning.

"Goodness, who's calling at this hour?" she muttered aloud in surprise, but then thought that it might be Don.

However, in order to avoid waking them up, Don had calibrated the machine to ring just once during the night. Consequently, the automated receiver took the call before she could. Bara decided to let the automated message do the honors, though, hoping– if it was him – that Don would leave a message. She missed hearing his baritone voice. Having a recording of it would help her get through the time that he was away from her. She smiled at the thought, anxious, now, to hear what he might say, and ready to pick the phone up before he ended the call.

Nevertheless, as the outgoing message ended, instead of Don's voice coming through the speaker, a strange tone began emanating almost immediately from the machine.

Almost instantly, Bara's expression glazed over. The papers dropped from her hand and the teacup she was holding slipped from her fingers, hitting the arm of the chair before falling to the oak floor and shattering into pieces. However, neither the warmth of her tea as it splashed all over her legs nor the sound of the china breaking across the floor distracted her. She was now nearly rigid in the chair, almost as if she were at attention.

One could easily say that she was transfixed, as if under a spell.

As she stared straight ahead, the tone continued, a single tone that did not waver in its note, but sustaining its sound for approximately three minutes. Then, the whistle pitched upwards a bit, rising in volume, and then warbled, with the call ending just as quickly as it had begun.

Thirty seconds later, Bara's eyes blinked a few times and then it seemed as if she had just woken up. She sat there, relaxed now, yet completely confused. Realizing that her legs were wet, she looked down and noticed that her cup had shattered beyond repair along the floor by her feet.

"_Oh_, I must have fallen asleep," she moaned. "**_Kuso_** - and I've broken my favorite cup, too!" Bara exclaimed, one Japanese word emphasizing her displeasure. Sighing, she looked at her lap and, seeing the papers lying there, muttered, "Well, that killed my evening. Guess I should get to bed, anyway. I just know that Don will call early and he'll be a little irritated with me if I'm still up when he does."

After cleaning the mess and reluctantly throwing out her destroyed teacup, Bara returned the papers to the file cabinet and locked it. Then, the woman slipped out of the office and made her way towards the bedroom.

As she walked, she stretched and yawned, wishing that Don could have delayed his trip overseas. She thought about the fact that Raphael had gone with him and it made her a little nervous. It wasn't that she didn't trust Raph; it was just that every time he and Don returned from their overseas excursions, Raph had a new cut or bruise. It made her wonder a great deal what it was that her fiancé and his brother did to warrant such injuries. With the wedding only three weeks away, she was becoming anxious and maybe a bit jittery, too. The last thing that she would want would be for her future brother-in-law to come back from Europe too injured to attend. With their limited list of guests, Bara did not want to see even one of them not there.

As she passed through the living room, she checked the area to make sure that things were orderly. She liked to make sure that, come morning a neat and tidy house greeted her. Smiling at the exactness of the room, she then casually glanced over at a wall that displayed a variety of the same kind of décor that Don had in his office downtown. She smiled.

There was a single, large picture, which drew her attention first. It depicted a battle scene between two clans of Samurai, all outfitted in their traditional armor, and riding impressive warhorses as the scene captured the major portion of the canvas. Then, accented underneath, hung a single, sheathed katana sword displayed horizontally between intricately ornate wooden holders.

Bara was somewhat amused that Don had a taste for such armament. Then, as she continued looking at the collection, she slowly came to a stop and turned to face the weapon head-on. A glazed expression suddenly crossed her face, the same detachment coming over her that she had experienced unknowingly in the office only moments before.

Now, as she stared at the sword, she walked up to it and, with one hand, she slowly reached over and gracefully slipped the implement off its holder. With the other hand, her right hand, she grasped the delicately engraved hilt and eased the sword out from its sheath. The soft chafing sound of metal against leather caused her arm to erupt in goose bumps.

Still, Bara's detached expression never wavered.

Now, as she stood there, the empty sheath in her left hand, the brandished sword in her right, she turned the weapon at different angles as if inspecting it. The gallery light above played along its length, reflecting the radiance of the mirror-like steel into Bara's face. Tucking the empty sheath under her arm, she then brought her left hand up to the sharp side of the silvery blade, and gently, delicately, ran her finger along its edge.

As the forged steel cut easily into her skin, Bara never flinched. Soon, a thin line of red oozed from the newly made cut on her finger, trickling a bit along its length in a thin ribbon of blood. Noiselessly and unnoticed by her, a single drop fell to the floor, staining it. She then shoved her finger into her mouth in reflex. Finally, and still in a dream-like state, she re-sheathed the sword and replaced it back onto its wooden supports. She then turned towards the bedrooms once again and began walking.

Just steps away from the double door to the bedroom, however, Bara seemed to 'wake up' as she did earlier back in the office. This time, she grimaced, bringing her left hand up and looking at her bleeding finger as if for the very first time.

"That's strange; I thought for sure I was careful when cleaning up the broken cup." Bara went directly to the bathroom and procured some peroxide and bandages from a cupboard. After she had treated her finger and wrapped it, she thought nothing more about it. She then headed back to the bedroom, undressed for bed, and was soon under the silken covers of the sheets and comforter.

It did not take long for Bara to fall asleep, where she was already tired from an evening of going over Don's paperwork. After a while, she was dreaming dreams meant only for her beloved.

However, as she dreamt, the dreams slowly morphed into scenes of harrowing battles, with blood and mayhem playing out in her mind. While she slept and dreamt, she tossed and turned fitfully. Soon, soft moans of despair interrupted the silence of the night.

Then, as her phantasms intensified, nightmares once again began to plague her, the very same nightmares that Don had thought were done and over with a month before.

Now, she began to perspire as she had done back then, quickly drenching the bottom sheet with her sweat as she thrashed around. The comforter ended up on the floor, first, soon followed by the top sheet. Now, she lay fully exposed to the night air of the bedroom, her hair matted in wetness along her face as she tossed and turned.

As the night wore on and as the dreams seem to intensify, Bara once again began to scream out in terror, as she had done only weeks before, still fully asleep.

Unfortunately, this time Don was not there to wake her.

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**_COMMENTS_**_ – Once again, my appreciation to all who read and who reviewed. _**_ZIPTANGO_**_ – _**_JESSIE LANDROZ_**_ – _**_LEONARDO MYSTIC_**_ – _**_CHIBI ROSE ANGEL_**_ - __**LUNAR-NINJA** – _**_RAMICA_**_ - _


	4. The 'Falling' Season

**_Disclaimer – _**_Purchase price of** c**urrently antiquated computer - $1500; annual Fan Fiction membership fee - $25.00; time spent in chair in front of antiquated computer - $100 per week **if** I hired a housekeeper to do my housework; reviews from readers who care enough to send their very best – priceless. (hugs to everyone)_

_I own only the storyline and even the basis for that I had to borrow. Thanks, Wendy, for allowing me to run with this AU. (hugs nice lady from Carmel). _

_Hugs to Ziptango for beta reading this chapter, too! My own personal security blanket! LOL_

_Anyway, enjoy – Bwahaha!_

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**Femme Fatale**

**Chapter 4 – The 'Falling' Season**

Although Thomas was never able to decipher the strange tones from Don's answering machine, he had kept the recordings for future reference,making copies so as to refer to them whenever an idea to their meaning came to him. Over the course of the next several months, he would occasionally listen to the CD that he madeand, when he had a new thought or idea, he would jot them into a notebook before putting the recording away again.

Initially, though, after Don returned from Russia and discovered the call, Bara hadn't remembered it when he asked her about it.

"Honestly, Don, I – truly don't remember getting the call. I must have been too busy with the contracts and the lab work."

Obviously, Don thought it all quite odd, yet he decided to dismissit, believinghis wife was probably just too busy to recall something as mundane as a phone message.

Then, a month after their wedding, Don intercepted two more calls similar to the first. For him, it was an easy matter of just recording the tones as they played through the speaker and then handing the tapes over toThomas for review and comparison. Although they were similar in tone, they weren't exactly the same, further confusing Thomas as he tried to discern the new recording as he had with the first one.

Now, months later and as Thomas listened to the musical messages yet again, he sighed, "Just can't figure it out. Yet, it has to be a code of some sort," he declared softly under his breath. He and Don were currently sitting in Don's downtown office, with the mutant working on a variety of contracts and other ventures while his human valet and friendfrustrated over the recordings yet again.

"It's probably nothing more than a fax machine dialing up the wrong number, Thomas," Don explained with a grin. He leaned back in his chair, one hand grasping a contract, "My brother Mike gets them all the time." Don then went back to reading the paperwork in his hand.

"No, I don't think so, Mr. Tello," the man countered, causing his employer to look up from his work once again, "It's…different; seems too direct. I've heard fax machines before, and they're too complex and sporadic with their buzzes and rings." He thumbed through his notes,quickly reading a few, as he sat opposite from Don with the desk in-between them. Shaking his head, "This is just too…focused and simple."

"Well, I'm certain, Thomas, that if there is anything to worry about, you'll get to the bottom of it." Don then resumed his work while his valet played the collection of tones once more on his portable CD player. After a while and still not getting any type of epiphany, the man decided to put it to rest – for the time being, anyway.

After pulling his earpohones fro his head and then slipping the recordings into his CD case, the man turned towards his employer as he said, "By the way, sir, I'm going to be taking my wife out to dinner for her birthday this evening. Will you need me for anything?"

"Ah, yes," Don looked up from his desk, "That's right, it's Hiromi's birthday." Sitting up straighter now, Don smiled broadly as he gave a friendly gesture with his hand, "As my gift to you lovely wife, she may pick one item from any of my stores. Everyone ther are well acquainted with you, so just tell them it's au gratis."

Thomas smiled as he thought about Hiromi's previous shopping experiences at his employer's clothing establishments. "Mr. Tello, she will be most pleased and appreciative. Thank you."

"Well, her isobe maki that she made for _my_ birthday warrants an entire store, but then you would have the dubious task of carryingit all home, so…"

Waving his hands dismissively, Thomas went slightly wide-eyed as he said, "Don't ever let my wife hear you say that, Mr. Tello; she'll take your word for it and clean your stores out! Our apartment will be filled to the ceiling and then I'll have no other choice but to move into my car."

Both men laughed at the thought with Don suddenly remembering, "Oh that reminds me. If you do take Hiromi shopping today, could you please pick up an item for me from Tiffany's? They have it on hold for me. I am giving a little present to Bara. It's our six-month anniversary and I wanted to give her a gift. Just run by the penthouse and leave it on our foyer table if you can."

Thomas quirked an eyebrow as he said, "A…six month anniversary gift, sir?"

"Yes," Don smiled wide, "Bara has been a dream come true for me, Thomas, and the least that I can do is to show her how much I love her. A once a year celebration just doesn't seem fitting with how I feel about her."

Thomas chuckled, "I don't mind picking up your gift, Mr. Tello, but I'm going to have to be quite careful about telling my wife what it's for!"

"And…why is that?" Don replied, somewhat puzzled.

"Hiromi and I have been married for five years, sir," Thomas explained, "If she learns about your views on such matters, I will have to buy five more presents to make up for not honoring her in the same fashion!" He smirked a little, "She sort of admires you with the way you handle things. Romi's always telling me that I should follow your example."

Don grinned then, imagining the look on the woman's face and the resulting 'conversation' she would have with her husband. As Don smiled, Thomas gave a wary look, "Please, Mr. Tello, you would not blackmail me with that, now, would you?"

"Me?" Don replied, as he placed a delicate hand across his plastron, "Use it to my advantage? Now, why would I ever do that?" he grinned evilly at his valet.

The horrified expression on his valet's face gave Don one more reason to chuckle, which – of course – convinced the man of his employer's humorous dig.

"Thank the gods you do indeed have a sense of humor, Mr. Tello!" Thomas smiled as he shook his head, "you had me worried there for a second."

Don's sudden quirk of his eye and abrupt halt to his mirth told Thomas that he had, with one simple sentence, meted out equal justice to his employer's idle threat. Suddenly, laughter erupted between the two men, each enjoying the momentary levity, but then, just as quickly, they returned to their immediate tasks, the shopping trip - and the mysterioius tones - forgotten.

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As he rode up toward his penthouse in his private elevator, Don sighed in weariness and rubbed at his eyes; he was tired and glad to be home. It had been a long day. The only thing that made it worth his while was coming home to his beautiful and charming wife, Bara. He thought about the diamond necklace and earrings he had bought for her from Tiffany's, and he hoped that she would like them. Don truly hoped that Thomas would be able to swing by the penthouse later that night with the package, before turning in, The turtle truly wanted Bara to discover her gift first thing in the morning. He smiled at the thought and knew that he was probably one of the luckiest men, or mutant,in the worldto have such a mate as Bara. To think that someone such as she would find him worthy of her time and attention, only swelled Don's heart to bursting. He sighed deeply once more. This time not in weariness, but with the fullness that only true love could create.

As he walked through the front door, Bara greeted him witha hug and a kiss, asking him, "How was your day, Sweetheart," she asked as she then took his jacket from him, putting the garmet neatly into the nearby coat closet.

Don watched as she hung his coat up. He smiled as he admired the red silk dress she wore. It was form-fitting and accentuated Bara's attractive physical features. She was currently wearing her house slippers, which allowed her to stand just a little shorter than Don was tall.

Then, smiling contentedly and as he worked his shoulder muscles around to release their tension, Don replied, "Oh, things went well enough, but the two meetings didn't resolve our problems." He suddenly said as an afterthought, however, "Also, I might have to drive up state tomorrow morning. One of my satellite labs had a scientist commit suicide the other day."

Closing the coat closet door, Bara turned around with widened eyes, "Oh, that's just horrible! What happened?"

"No one knows exactly," her husband answered, "She's been sort of a loner, not very friendly. Her colleagues said that she had been experimenting on some sort of genetics breakthrough over the past year, and had been acting strange for several months." Don worked the inside of his cheek a little in thought, wondering what exactly the woman had been working on. He then continued as he sighed, "Anyway, from what the lab manager told me, she flung herself out the window of her apartment. When her colleagues checked her place,her pet was missing, as well. I don't know what it was exactly, but her associates said that she was quite fond of it. It's all very strange, but I should be back by evening."

Bara exclaimed as she looked up at her husband, "Oh, that's just so sad. Did she have any family?"

"No," Don replied, "she wasn't married. Her parents are dead and, where she was an only child, she didn't have any siblings either." He sighed then, "I only hope it wasn't the work that overwhelmed her; I would feel very badly about that."

"Well, you can't monitor everyone, dear." Bara remarked.

"I know, but – still, it's very sad. No one should ever take their life like that. I'm certain that had she shared her problems, I would have encouraged her to seek counseling."

Don gently embraced his wife and hugged her, nuzzling her neck a bit as he did. He pulled away and looked deeply into Bara's attractive face, "You know...you are either an amazing dream, or the most incredible creature to ever grace my presence."

"I hope I'm the latter. Some dreams tend to go wrong!" she smiled sadly, giving him a peck on his snout.

"Hmm…yes," Don nodded solemnly as he studied her thoughtfully, "it seems strange that you'restarting to have these nightmares again." He hugged her for a second time and sighed.

Don was fully aware that Bara's dreams _had_ returned, again, seemingto coincide or even following Don's business dealings whenever he would go out of town. He had rationalized that it was just his wife missing him and nothing more.

Sighing, Bara, slipped her arm around her husband's, as they turned and walked into the living room. "Last night, though, it was different," she admitted softly.

"Why so?" he asked as they both sat down on the couch next to each other. Don wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulder, the two of them sitting side by side, as they relaxed into the divan.

"Well, I remember images this time, things happening that I can't explain, and then there was…" she looked up at Don and grimaced, "blood. A lot of it."

Nodding a little, Don studied her for a moment, and then said, "Well, maybe my explanation as to why Raph and I go to Europe has affected you more than you care to admit?" He wondered if it had been wise to tell Bara about his business ventures overseas. Months earlier, he shared with her how the trips oftentimes involved quelling threats from mafia-like gangs, groups of opportunistic crime lords whodisguised themselves as innocent entrepreneurs as they took advantage of the less fortunate.Although Bara had been upset at first with Don's vigilante side-business, she couldn't help but admire her husband for trying to defend the downtrodden victims of such organizations.

In any event, Don ended up sharingvery little with her regarding the full details of his trips. He felt it unnecessary to expound on the type of danger he frequently put himself in every time he flew to Russia or China.

Shrugging a little, Bara sighed, "I…don't know, Don. I mean, I understand why you do what you do, where your business partners over there are without any support from local law enforcement agencies." From where she sat on the couch, she could see the samurai print with the sword showcased just below it on its wooden holder. Bara suddenly changed the topic, "I really don't like that picture. I…I don't know why, it just…gives me the creeps."

Don looked over at the artworkk and then back at his wife again, "It's just a painting, Bara; certainly it isn't influencing your dreams, is it?" He quirked his head a little, "And, Samurai warriorsare part of your Japanese heritage, so it should not bother you that much."

"I know, but…all that blood and then that sword that you _insist_ on displaying," she moaned in rising irritation, turning her face away. "Maybe that's the reason why my dreams have become so – vivid, so...violent?"  
she moaned.

Don's expression grew serious. Cupping his wife's chin and turning her face around to him again, his words were precise and deliberate as he gently explained to her, "That sword is part of my clan's history, Bara. It symbolizes a very pivotal point in our existence." Gently rubbing her chin with his thumb before releasing it, Don looked once again at the object in question, "Our sensei's greatest enemy was felled by that sword," he turned back to face his wife once more, a bit of pride showing in his voice, "Leonardo's katana will forever remain on display as a symbol of our victory." Smiling, he added as he chuckled lightly, "Although he still complains about my 'borrowing' it. Just the same," Don straightened up, "it reminds me of how very fortunate it is to be where we are today. I - will – not – remove it…_my_ _love_." Don gave a determined but compassionate expression to his wife, not trying to be overbearing,per se', but to make his point perfectly clear with how he felt.

Bara sighed as she leaned into his embrace, "I guess I'll have to get used to it then." Bara knew when Don postured himself, as he was doing now, there wasn't any hope of dissuading him. It was obvious her husband would not be convinced otherwise from his decision.

Despite his insistance, though, Don could still sense that she was not the least bit happy with his position. He hugged her and nuzzled her neck with his snout, "I love you, you know."

"I know, and I love you, too," she replied, leaning into his affection. Then, changing the subject, she asked, "Well, I have dinner waiting. Are you hungry?"

Don smiled wide as he gave his wife a visual once over - and then quirked an eye ridge. Gently caressing one of her arms with his right hand, causing the skin to goosebump, he commented huskily, "For many things, my dear, but – yes, I believe my stomach would appreciate some 'sustenance!'"

Bara playfully pushed her husband away from her in mock indignation, "Is that all you _think_ about, Don," giggling as she did and then stood up.

Don joined her and rolled his eyes up as if givingher wordssome serious consideration. Then looked at Bara and grinned, "Just about."

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Later on that evening and as they were preparing for bed, Don slipped up behind Bara as she stood before their bathroom mirror. She was currently combing her long, raven-black hair. Snuggling up to her and putting his arms around her waist, he asked as he whispered along her neck, nuzzling her affectionately, "Still mad at me?"

Bara involuntarily shivered, continuing to brush her hair as she smiled shyly, "A little, but…" she pivoted around to face him, "I love you, and I respect your reasons. I just…wish the sword could be displayed somewhere else other than in our home."

Don brought her closer to him and in response, she laid her head against his plastron. She nestled into his shoulderas he spoke softly to her, "I will try to find a less conspicuous place for the sword tomorrow; maybe in my office downtown."

Bara kept herself entrenched within his arms, her words gently vibrating against Don's right shoulder as she said, "Thank you, Don-san. That…means a lot to me."

He smiled and pulled away to look at her,"I love you, my sweet, and I'm sorry for becoming so stubborn earlier, but," he sighed, "the sword is very special to me."

"I know, and I do understand," Bara replied,but then changed the topic, "By the way, what do you have planned for tomorrow?" she asked as her eyes sparkled with a mischievous smile growing on her face.

"Whhhyyy?" Don inquired suspiciously, cocking his head curiously.

"Oh…I don't know," she traced her finger along one of the groves in his plastron, "maybe go for a drive, have lunch at the house in Croton," she suggested coyly, tipping her chin up as she batted her eyelashes at him.

He chuckled knowingly and kissed her forehead, correcting her, "You mean, lunch, dinner, and…maybe _breakfast_?"

"Well, since you mentioned it…" Bara laughed in return, receiving a hug from her husband.

"I…guess I could spare that much time from my business, now that I'm a married man," Don replied eagerly, "Maybe, we can try again to make some babies, eh?" he released her as he raised a tempting eye ridge at her. They had both wanted to have children, but for reasons that were more obvious to Don than he cared to admit, his wife had remained barren. Maybe it was because of the differences in their species, but part of him had hoped his mutation would have made it possible for her to conceive.

Nevertheless, he saw absolutely no harm in at least trying - and as many times as necessary, too.

Bara giggled, now pulling herself away from her husband and leading him back into their bedroom towards their bed. As Don followed along, his grin widened as his wife enticed seductively, "Why wait until then, my love?"

Chuckling under his breath, Don smiled wider, "Why indeed, my lovely wife."

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A few hours later, Bara was dreaming again, only this time the dream was different. It seemed as if it had come from her past, when she had lived with her grandfather. She recognized the setting and the feel of it. It was when she was quite young and living in Japan. It was a time of learning and training for her. As she watched her dream play out, she smiled with how familiar things seemed to be, even though this particular dream was quite new. Yet, as sometimes happens in dreams, she was only an observer, watching herself as a little girl.

_The pre-adolescent female stood in the courtyard, her doji swarming around her legs, as a gentle wind wiped through the secluded training area. Her face glistened with perspiration, proof that she had been exerting herself for some time, now. She stood erect and bold, her small wooden sword held high as she prepared to deflect her would-be assailant. Her eyes flit about, searching for his unseen attack. _

_She was smiling expectantly. She knew he was one with the shadows, now._

_Her attacker was her sensei, her grandfather, and he was showing her another lesson, another way to advance upon an enemy and, at the same time, a way to deflect that same attack._

_"Pay attention, Bara," he called out, hidden among the blackened veils of night as he prepared his next move, "it is important to listen, to taste, to sense where I am." he directed. "Do not be distracted by the moonless night; it shall one day be your friend and your ally." _

_Then, without warning and coming from a place other than where his voice had been only a moment earlier, a dark form lsuddenly eaped out at her. _

_Surprised, yet expectant, Bara easily deflected his jutting sword, but she had been unprepared for the leg that swept hers._

_As she hit the ground with a sudden 'thwump', she called out, "Ojiisan!", her ten-year old voice protesting the unexpected maneuver. _

_"My child," he now stood tall before her, his black doji playing in the same gentle breeze. The girl lay sprawled along the ground below him. As he sheathed his sword, he admonished, "You did not expect anything more than my weapon...and **that** is why you failed! Always expect the unexpected, regardless of what weapon is used." He then corrected her, "Never think about what will happen, just react to it **as** it happens." _

_As ten-year old Bara sat up, deflated, she bowed her head low before him and whispered in shame, "Hai, sensei."_

The 'observing' adult Bara smiled, somehow remembering the scene, and yet, a part of her seemed to see it for the very first time. It caused her to wonder a great deal about it, but – as the dream continued – she dismissed it easily. Then,in her dream, she heard her grandfather's voice again…

_"Now, it is time for our 'other' lesson," The young girl's grandfather waited until she had stood again before him, and then he directed her towards what appeared to be a short stand of trees. They grew so tightly together, however, that they almost behaved as a solid barrier. Yet, as the two approached the living fence, Bara's ojiisan suddenly pushed part of it aside to slide the 'trees' away, revealing an opening or gateway. The trees were not true, growing trees, but part of a blind, constructed to fool anyone on the other side that what lay beyond was only a grove of saplings, rather than a hidden training yard._

_As young Bara and her grandfather passed through the opening, the child asked, her little-girl voice filled with innocence." Why do we practice in secret, ojiisan?"_

_"Because, my child," he replied, "we have enemies that would want you." He closed the 'gate', and then turned to urge his granddaughter foreward._

_"Why would they want me? I have done nothing to them?" she exclaimed with wary concern. She huddled into him a bit, the breeze chilling her and causing her to shiver just a little. The thought of anyone snatching her away from her home frightened the girl terribly. She had already lost her parents years earlier. To lose her grandfather, too, was a thought that gave her nightmares._

_Sensing her fear, the man gently laid a hand upon her back and accepted her need for assurance, "Ah, Bara, my rose, you are special; you have sensitivity to 'ideas', or thoughts, and an ability to hide these thoughts from those who are our enemy and who would take you." He sighed, then, "However, your training is not yet complete, and until it is…you must stay hidden." He then explained, "Your mother and father did not understand this. It is only by chance that their death allowed me to show you the wonders of your kunoichi heritage."_

_"What…is a kunoichi, again?" the girl asked innocently, looking up at her grandfather,as they walked up the wooden steps to the temple. She then looked down at her feet and tried to match her grandfather's stride but found her legs far too short. Consequently, she had to step a little faster to keep up with him. _

_Smiling, the grandfather patted her back affectionately, not answering right away. He continued climbing the steps with his student, asthe scene before them to come into view. The building was a place of worship,a simple Buddhist temple built onraised wooden terraces, eachlarge and imposing, with the entire structure surrounded by trees. The trees clustered around the building protectively, bathing the structure in deep shadows. Only the subdued and soft glow of lanterns brightened the inside of the temple, warming the various doorways and opened windows with their inviting light._

_As they reached the top of the first wooden terrace, only a few steps remained to enter up into the main anteroom. Greeting them solumely, a host ofpriests bowed before them.The men stood in a half circle, all wearing the orange robe of their order, half their face covered with the same color of cloth, while leaving only their eyes and hairless head exposed. They hummed a sort of chant, each priest holding a staff , from which the top-end hungincense burners. The priests' musical monotoned 'song' seemed hypnotically pleasant, like a mantra. Smoke gently billowed from the burners, filling the upper reaches of the temple with a bluish green haze. Upon the wooden floor in the midst of the circle of priests, sat a large, red pillow, big enough for a child – such as Bara.._

_Finally, the girl's grandfather stopped and turned towards her as he answered her question, "A kunoichi, Bara, is a warrior, a female ninja with very special talents. You will one day use these talents for a very noble cause, all for the honor of your clan." He gently stroked the girl's hairless head. Since he had adopted her, he had it shaved clean so as not to draw attention to her gender. Where she had not changed yet to womanhood, she would remain hairless, yet he sighed, knowing that soon, he would have to let her hair grow out once more. His granddaughter would not remain a little girl forever; Bara would have to learn how to manage such a thing as hair, teasing it into alluring styles as to be pleasing and attractive. _

_Bara smiled up at him and then said eagerly, her eyes bright and proud, "My clan's The Daughters of the Dragon, right?"_

_Her ojiisan's face narrowed suddenly as he looked down at the girl, his eyes like blackened slits. Seeinghis angry expression caused Bara to go wide-eyed with fear. His face then darkened as the priests stopped their chanting, taking notice of the girl in like manner. A sudden and terrible hush fell over the child, causing her to nearly hold her breath in confusion and fear._

_In a voice filled with warning, her grandfather replied between clenched teeth, his words hard and angry, "**Baka child**! Never – mention - that – name – again - EVER!"_

_"W-why?" she asked as her chin trembled. It had only been a few days since she had learned about her status, that she was part of a select group of young girls specifically chosen and privately trained from the rest of the clan. _

As the adult Bara watched her dream unfold, she knew that she was familiar with this scene, yet Bara also seemed to see it anew, as well. A part of her wondered why she was remembering this aspect of her life, now, where in her waking world, she hadn't ever been aware of it. "Why does this all seem so familiar to me?" she asked herself in her dream-state.

Just the same, she sensed that her ojiisan wantedto backhand her, but then, in the next instant, she felt his resistance. She could almost read his thoughts as he said silently, _"It would not do for me to abuse the child now, thereby compromising her future training." _

_The girl's grandfather softened his expressionm then, and bent down to eye level with her. With a voice only meant for her, he whispered as he gently but firmly grasped her delicate shoulders, "You are part of a secret band of ninja who have been hand picked to give their life and their allegiance to the Oroku family. My young lord, Saki, will have great plans for you. Although I am not privy to those plans and nor has one been picked for you, one day, my granddaughter, you will give of your self for the good of the Foot clan." _

_"What…shall I give to them, Ojiisan?" the girl asked curiously. She felt his hands suddenly squeeze a little tighter on her shoulders and it hurt, yet she did not evengrimace. Instead, she stood there quietly, obediently, waiting for her sensei to answer, while the priests prepared for her time with them. Floor-based incense burners along one side and in front of the red pillow now began to smoke,their transparent bluish clouds of fragrance billowing high into the room and mingled with the fumes already clouding the rafters. The child, Bara, felt a familiar light-headedness as the vapors enveloped her. She tried to shake its affects, trying to stay focused on her mentor, but the girl was finding it increasingly difficult with each passing moment._

_Her grandfather's smile was gentle, almost compassionate, as he replied to her question in a near whisper, "You will give **everything**, my dear granddaughter."_

The observing Bara narrowed her expression a bit at the man's words, "Everything?" she wondered questioninglyin her dream.

_However, the girl just stood there, confused as her observing adult self seemed to be. Nevertheless, as the affects from the incense soon strengthened, a question perseisted in her mind, 'what did it mean to give - everything?', but __she found it too difficult to express it as her consciousness wavered even more. _

The adult Bara watched and knew this dream-child was thinking the same thing as she. Still, with the way her ojiisan had spoken, it implied that whatever it was to give '_everything' ,_ it seemed giving everything was a noble act. The strangest part, though, was that she could not remember having this conversation with her grandfather…at all. In fact, she was certain that the entire dream sequence seemed far too surreal to be a memory of hers.

_Nevertheless, as the child struggled to ask her question, her ojiisan turned her away, and then gently pushed her towards the priests, "Now, Bara, it is time for your meditation."_

_"I don't like meditating, it makes me tired," the girl whimpered weakly in complaint, trying to resist, but finding it increasingly difficult. She was slowly losing the will to fight as the smoky interior of the temple overwhelmed her. As in previous times before, the effectsfrom the incense became stronger than her determination and desire to resist._

_"Yes, and that is the way it should be," her grandfather said, gently pushing her forward some more and bringing her closer to the priests, "We will be telling you wonderful 'stories'"_

_"But, I never remember them, Grandfather, no matter how hard I try!" the girl protested weakly, her eyes drooping, now, as her mind slowed even more. _

_"Ah, but these are special stories that you are not supposed to remember until they are needed, child. And, we will help you to keep then secret as well as your allegiance to the Dragon." He sighed as he continued, "For now, just enjoy the pleasant aroma of the incense and the calming words from my priests." The man smiled down at his granddaughter, a knowing smile that seemed detached, dispassionate, and not at all like the ojiisan that the observing Bara seemed more familiar with. _

In that moment, Bara saw his smilechange toone of asneer, as if he was fully aware of a terrible and horrifying secret. It came to the woman in her dream, that regardless of how she felt or whatever it was that the priests were teaching the child to do, the little girl would have no other choice but to obey. The dreaming Bara wanted to stop the act, to intercede for the girl, and to 'save' her from something evil which, even in that moment, seemeda mystery to her.

_Then, from the dream, a sudden distant tone sang forth, a sound which seemed to emanate from within the shadowed recesses of the temple. Its lyrical notes rose and fell along its register, its repeating melody almost hypnotic in nature. Almost instantly, the child's resistance changed to one of compliance. She now walked away from her grandfather, willingly sitting upon the pillow, completely forgetting her earlier hesitation. As she quickly settled down into the red cushion, sinking into the pillow, Bara quickly folded her legs into a lotus position. _

_The girl was now ready. _

However, as dreams often do, the scene abruptly changed. It was then the observing Bara, the adult version of the child, saw the priests morph suddenly into something far different from their placid demeanor. Now, instead of wearing the orange robes of their order and with their heads shaved as bald as the child's, from head to toe they wore nothing but black. With their faces covered with the same dark oppressive color, red kanji letters decorated the front along a white band which tied around their heads. As Bara watched this new scene play out, she tried to read the writing. Suddenly, an image of a dragon came to hermind and inthat moment, everything in the dream beagnto make sense.

Yet, just as she came to this sudden thought, she awoke and found herself somewhere else entirely.

With a jolt, Bara sat straight up in bed, her skin glimmering with perspiration, but with the essence of the dream slowly fading fromher mind. However, unlike the other dreams, this one had left her a little ill, possibly even homesick. Suddenly, she missed her ojiisan and wished that he still lived, to see what wonderful things had happened to her, now that she was married to Don. She was still confused with the dream, since what she could recall confused her. For as much as she sat there and tried to remember, the scenes were quite unfamiliar, the priests, the trainingyard, the red pillow- and even her ojiisan, who seemed strange and alien.

_"What does the word 'dragon' have to do with him or with me, though?"_ she asked herself silently.

Yet as she sat there next to her sleeping husband, as her dream dissipated, she concluded that it was nothing more thansomethinga subconscious mind would create. It was obvious that her worries and concerns about Don's business overseas was causing her surrealistic phantasms. She breathed deeply to dispel the affects from the nightmare and then Bara looked over at Don. She sighed in relief, glad that, this time, she had not disturbed him . She smiled down at her husband, his face filled with peace and serenity,and thought about how much she loved him!

Just the same, she was awake and restless. Carefully, so as not to wake him, Bara slipped out of bed. She quickly shoved her feet into her slippers and grabbed up her robe. After she shrugged it on, she padded silently towards their bedroom door.

However, Don's sleepy voice stopped her, "Wha's…wrong, Bara?"

"Nothing, my love; I am just restless," she replied sweetly.

"Come back t'bed," he half begged, still mostly asleep; yet awake enough to reach one arm out to her beseechingly.

"I will, I promise, I'm just going to get a glass of milk and then I'll return." Bara replied affectionately.

"Promise?" he begged, lifting his head. His eyes flitted around to see where she was in the room. When he saw her standing at the threshold of their bedroom door, he smiled at her. It was a half cocked, lopsided grin, and an obvious testament that he was still quite drunk with sleep.

Bara shook her head and smiled. Walking over to where he lay, she bent down and kissed him on his cheek, "I promise, Don-san, that I will return to you." With her hand, she stoked his face affectionately, "Maybe without my nightgown on!"

"Mmm…" Don grinned as he lay his head down onto his pillow again and closed his eyes, "That'd be worth waitin' for…" and then he sighed contentedly, falling back to sleep once again.

Bara cupped her hand over her mouth to keep from giggling and shook her head. He was so cute when he was like this, she thought to herself. The big, powerful Don Tello – maker of men and worlds – reduced to a puddle of lusty thoughts and stumbling sleepy words. She giggled once more at the irony.

Nevertheless, the glass of milk kept 'calling' out to her and so Bara left the bedroom and headed straight away towards the kitchen.

As shewalked through the foyer towards the living area, she noticed a small package on the side table near the front door of the penthouse. Wrapped in gold foiled paper and tied with red, velvet ribbon, the box intrigued her. She stopped to inspect it. _"This…wasn't here before,"_ she thought quizzically. She smiled, then, "Don…that sneaky little scoundrel. What a sweetie he is." She picked it up and shook it gently. Hearing a subtle rattling from inside, she grinned bigger, "Jewelry?" Her eyes brightened a little as she began to slip a fingernail under the ribbon to remove it, but then she stopped. "Nope," and then placed the box back down on top of the table, "I'll wait until morning. I'll…_pretend_ not to see it and see how long it will take for Don to get impatient." Giggling, she patted the top of the box affectionately, "But, I won't make him suffer too long; I really want to see what's inside!"

A few minutes later, Bara found herself with a full glass of milk in hand and heading into Don's office. After she flipped the light switch on, she walked over to the desk, and as she did, Bara suddenly scowled. There, lying along the top of the desk, she saw a thick collection of papers showing complex series of hand-drawn schematics. She knew thatDon had been working on his latest invention earlier, just before she called him to bed. Yet, she was perfectly aware that it was in his nature to be slightly absentminded. Sighing in loving acceptance, she quickly grabbed up the papers and filed them back into the cabinet behind his desk.

Then, the phone rang. Bara wiped around and stared at the device, her milk sloshing a bit in its glass. Some of the white liquid dribbled over the rim and down its side, a few drops falling silently onto the desk.

Unaware of the milky splatter, Bara wondered whether to answer the phone or let the automated recorder do its job. She was fully aware of the mysterious tones from months before, only because Don had brought them to her attention. Yet, even then, when he had played the recordings for her, Bara could only shrug and insist at the time that she had never heard them before.

As she stood there, now, trying to decide whether to answer the phone or not, the automated system finally took the incoming call. Bara stood there, curious as to who in the world would be calling at such an ungodly time. She noted the small clock on the desk and read the time - midnight, certainly far too late in the evening for such calls.

However, as the automated receiver took the message, a series of musical tones sang forth through the speakers.

As what happened seven months prior,Bara became rigid, standingstock still and transfixed. Completely unaware of what she was doing, she dropped her glass of milk,the glass shattering over the floor and spilling its contents. As the whistles and beeps continued through the speaker, they changed suddenly in pitch. Now, they had an almost desperate tone to them,and it appeared as if their desperationaffected Bara in like manner.

However, unlike her first experience, this time her eyes widened ever so slightly...almost in alarm, Yet, quickly and in the next instant, her face hardened into a stern expression and quite unlike her. As the series of tones and beeps ceased to play, Bara turnedand walked stiffly towards the office door, almostin a trance-like state. As she cleared its threshold, she automatically turned left, towards the living room. Approaching the samurai painting, she stopped, turned, and faced it – just as she had done months earlier.

Without hesitating, she stepped up to the wall where the painting hung, took the sheathed sword from the mantle below it, and silently slipped the blade out from its holder. As she quietly replaced the empty sheath back onto the mantle, she turned and then hesitated ever so slightly. Her face contorted a bit, almost in pain as if she were fighting some unwanted urge, or battling a subconscious enemy. However, almost as if that 'something' became stronger than she was, her determined expression returned once again.

Now, she took slow,but deliberately steps towards the master bedroom, her feet silent against the carpet.

As she walked, Bara brought the sword up in front of her. With its point facing away from her,she seemed prepared for battle,ready to strike down like a sprung trap. Her posture took on that of the well-trained child in her dream, long forgotten lesons now coming to the fore and overtaking the woman. Slowly, a small smile creased her face. Yet, it was a different smile from what Bara usually expressed. It wasvery much like the oneher grandfather had in her dream.

In that moment and as if blooming forth from her subconscious, Bara 'remembered' whom and what she was, what her clan had trained her to be since childhood…and what was now her mission.

She was kunoichi, a member of the Foot clan, and a Daughter of the Dragon.

She was an assassin, her one and only mission playing repeatedly in her head like a broken record, a tone telling her of one single…simple…command.

'Kill and die with honor'.

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**_Author's_****_ Comments_**_: The next chapter will not be pretty. Yet, it still falls within the T rating.I felt it prudent to warn y'all. Bwahaha!_


	5. Wintertime

**_Disclaimer - _**_I don't own anything other than this story idea. As for having it beta read, Zip's been on vacation and I got anxious to upload this baby. So, if you find anything wrong, misspelled, or out of character, it's not Zip's fault. Not that she would be, otherwise, but, I'm uploading this with out my 'safty net'. I'm…a little nervous. LOL Enjoy! Bwahahaha._

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**Chapter 5 - Wintertime**

In his dream state, Don felt a presence, a very evil presence. Yet, before he could wake himself and almost as if someone had poured living fire over him, his eyes shot open. In that moment that he found himself rudely awakened, he realized an extraordinary truth.

He was in horrific and almost mind-numbing pain.

Despite the restriction of his shell, he tried to bolt upright to a sitting position in bed. However, he found his right side strangely weak, which puzzled him. In the darkness, he couldn't see very much, not where his eyes tried to focus from his abrupt waking.Nevertheless, to compensate for the shift in his physical balance, Don's left arm took his full weight, forcing himself to push up from that direction as a result. Now, as his left arm propped himto a sitting postionand at an odd angle, his breathing came in short, ragged gasps. His eyes went wide with half-crazed panic, a panic that threatened to suffocate him. The strange thing was he didn't know why. Don was certain he was having a nightmare, but then something seemed to tell him otherwise. Instantly, he tried jump out of bed, to focus his eyes in the dim darkness of the room. Withthe only illumination coming from the city outside and which seeped in around the edges of the drawn blinds, he saw thewalls around his side of the room splattered with something, something dark and all too familiar.

Blood? He could smell the coppery scent, nearly tasting it as he gasped in surprise.Then, in shock, he slumped back down into the bed once more,feeling again the strange weak sensation. It was in that moment when he realized that he was not dreaming at all. Quickly, Donshot a concerned look towards his wife's side of the bed.

He saw…nothing. She didn't seem to be there.

With her bedcovers shoved aside, a thought came to him thatshe might be up again, restless, just as she had been earlier.

Nevertheless, the unbearable searing pain brought him back to his present torment far too quickly. He looked to his right arm and saw, to his horror, that it seemed barely attached to his arm.

Yet, before he could wonder why it was so,a sudden noise from beside him distracted his attention. It was almost a snarl, a growl even. In a slow, lethargic arc, and feeling strangely weak, he tried to bring his head up to seek its source. However, as he tried to do this, a sudden nausea swept over him. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed, trying to push back the gagging response.

Once again, overwhelming pain jarred his very being; a pounding, throbbing torment that rivaled anything he had ever experienced before. As a result, it mercilessly forced him to abandon any notion of getting sick – or moving, for that matter.

Immediately, his concern for his arm consumed his thoughts.He snapped his eyes open, his attention now for his right arm. With his vision quickly adjusting to the silhouetted blackness of night, what he saw, now, shocked him to confusion. His entire being seemed to scream in horror as he assessed his stricken body. Utterly confused, Don saw that his once strong arm now lay nearly separated from his shoulder, a few tendons still keeping it attached, yet the appendage hunglimp on blood-soaked bed sheets. A a pool of the red liquid seeped under his trembling body and, not too surprisingly, he could feel himself going into shock. In response,he slumped back down on the bed to lessen the affect.

Don shut his eyes and quickly tried to assess his condition. The brief glance that he took of his injury, before he collapsed back against the bed, told him that his arm appeared barely attached to his shoulder. He recalled the tendons seemed torn and exposed to the air, with the bone and deltoid muscles cut almost clean through. It was easy to conclude that someone had attacked him.

He would have fainted in that moment from the pain, itself,had it not been for his ninjitsu training. Trying desperately to compose himself, he realized that, other than the severe cut to his arm at his shoulder, he had absolutely no feeling in it at all along the limb. His damaged appendage 'felt' as if it belonged to someone else entirely.

A sudden, spastic movement caught his attention next. Like a geyser of red and to the rhythm of his heartbeat, blood squirted from the main artery of his arm, with each spurt weakening him further. Panic now began to overtake his mind, since he knew what that meant. Instantly, Don's warrior instincts quelled it, replacing the panic with a need to act. Yet, with each eruption of his life-blood weakening his body, he could only lay there in a stunned stupor, completely helpless.

Don knew, then, that he was dying.

Nevertheless, he realized in that moment that someone had attacked him while he slept, someone who had obviously compromised his security measures. Briefly, he allowed a bit of anger to override his feeling of panic, indignant that anyone could successfully bypass the safety features he himself had invented. Yet with Don's ever-weakening condition, his rage quickly dissolved to concern, as his blood loss worsened.

What good would it do, now,to vent,he asked himself derisively; in less than a minutes, Don knew that he would be surely be dead.

However, with his focus so centralized on his present condition, he had not noticed the figure standing beside him and a step away from the bed, next to where he lay. He would have recognized her in an instant, too, had he been more aware of his surroundings.

Now, though,he was in shock. Although he could feel some relief from his painful torment, with his endorphins rushing to their appointed tasks,Don still had enough presence of mind to look over at Bara's side of the bed for her. He knew that if someone had attacked him, then it was certain that Bara was in danger. His frantic need to know if his wife was safe overshadowed any concern for his present condition. Forgetting about the noises he had just heard seconds earlier, he quickly tried to roll over to her side, to see if she had fallen onto the floor. Don's greatest fear was that Bara had been the first strike and was now lying dead or dying there.

Despite his earnest attempt, though, he was unable to stretch even his head to see if she was in the room. In that moment, another wave of nausea washed over him,forcing him back onto his pillow, once again, as he groaned.

In desperation, he gasped as loudly as he could,"**Ba-Bara",**trying to call to her. Howerver,the pain and his weakened state brought him closer to fainting once again. Forcing back his delirium, Don shook his head desperately to clear it.

Again,that same noise that he had heard earlier, when he had first woken up, came to his ears once more. It was almost in answerto his calling for Bara. It seemed to be…right beside him…right by…his head.

As Don turned to glance upwards towards the noise, a shock greater than he was prepared for met his eyes, a new and confusing terror now loomed over him.

Standing there dazed, with her arms hanging limply by her side and with a bloody sword grasped in her right hand, stood Bara. Initially, a slight sneer seemed to crease her face, marring her beauty and confusing Don. He had never seen such a hateful look on his wife's face before; it almost seemed - alien to her gentle nature.

However, in the next moment, when their eyes met, the hate and spite melted away, replaced with confusion and a pained, grief-stricken expression. It was as she had suddenly realisedwhat she had just done. Bara now looked down upon her broken husband, her eyes pooling in grief as her own body began trembling in shock.

In horror, Don recognized that the sword she held inher hand was the very one she had complained about, the one she had begged him to remove hours earlier. It wasLeo's sword, the one he had used many years before to slay Oruku Saki. In that moment, Don chastized himself for being so stubborn about it. In that instant, the dreams his wife had had, the strange, tone-saturated phone messages suddenlyy came back to him. He knew then, what they were about. Now, however, that knowledge seemed to be too late in coming.

Suddenly, he noticed a single tear course its way down her face, and then Don watched as she attempted to speak.

At first, Bara's lips tried to move, but no sound came forth. As she tried to talk, her face grimaced in despair, as if in pain. She finally uttered a garbled mangle of words, but they were so unintelligible and so raw with emotion, that it was near impossible for Don to understand what she was trying to say to him. Nevertheless, her lips continued moving as she tried to form words, seeming to repeat the same phrases, over and over again. Don tried to understand what she was attempting to tell him,buthe foundit difficult as unconsciousness threatened to overwhelm him once more.

Suddenly, like an epiphany, he figured out what she was trying to say.

With her expression showing extreme distress and grief, as well as confusion, she uttered, "I – m, sorry, I don't understand," he discerned from her, "…I love you, I loved you, how could I….Oh, _god_, I –m sorry, I don't understand this…I love you, loved you." With each mumbled attempt, Bara's body continued to shake and tremble, as if in shock.

Nevertheless, Don sensed his life force weakening with each passing second. Then, without warning, like a fice a new terror clutched him. He watched in helpless horror as Bara brought the sword up in front of her. However, with blood now pooling in his throat and constricting his own voice, Don was unable to call out for her to stop. As she made her next move, he thought for sure that this would be her killing blow.He felt his heart break.

As his wife brought the sword, she turned it away from him. She then inspected it,the brilliant steel marred and dripping with his blood. Now, twisting the sword around and positioning the tip of the blade against her stomach, she looked down at her midsection, and then back down to him. This time, her words were crisp and clear, as she cried, "I'm sorry, I loved you,". As her voice broke into quiet sobs and without hesitation, Bara plunged the blade deep into herself. She cried out painfully as the blade sankin, her thrust driving it hearly through her body. In the next instant,she doubled over in agony,her knees buckling, and forcing her to collapseto the carpeted floor of their bedroom. Her body then fell hard against the side of the bed, her sudden movement jarring it and thereby jerking Don in the process. It only seemed to intensify his already miserable state, and, so, he cried out in response. Yet,it was as much in grief as it was in pain. With Bara's wound now bleeding profusely, the crimson flood poured out of her as it stained the carpeted floor beneath her body.

He watched, now, the katana – Leo's katana – protruding from his wife's midsection, her weakening heartbeat jerking the hilt as her breathing hitched. The movement of the weapon slowed,though, as her system began to shut down. It gave occasional jerks as her body desperately tried to stay alive, yet, it was to no avail. Her wound was fatal and, as a result, the hilt gradually slowed its mortal dance.

Now, as she lay propped up against the bed, the way she was angled Don could still see her face. Bara's eyes fluttered a bit as she tried to look up at her beloved one last time. She tried to smile at him, but the best she could muster was a sneer, the very same sneer he had seen only seconds earlier.

Unfortuantely, Don was too weak to help her, to embrace her, to even say 'goodbye'. He could only watch, powerless to do anything for her atall, other than watch - and grieve. Tears nowoverwhelmed his eyes in despair, spilling over as he heard her expell her final breath. As her pupils fixed and as her body slumped in death, a strangled cry came forth from the very depth of Don's soul. Like a dying beast, his voice filled the bedroom with an eerie foreboding moan, Then, as it gainedvolumne, his cry shook the bed from the power behind his screams.

Suddenly, and in that moment right afterwards,Thomas came charging into the bedroom. In his hand, he held an envelope, in the other a just-brandished Ama Goi Ken knife. Yet, the envelope that he held in his right hand was the reason why he was there in the first place. He had forgotten to bring it with him earlier when he had delivered the gift that Don had him pick up from Tiffany's. It was a card from Don, which spoke of his love for Bara. Thomas had accidentally left it behind in his car, caught up with his own wife's birthday celebration. Yet, despite Hiromi's plea to wait until later, Thomas had insisted on returning to the penthouse that night. He wanted to make sure that the card was there in the morning with the gift, when Bara spied it the next day.

As fortune would have it, he had entered Don'spenthouse just moments before hearing Don's strangled cry of grief and pain. Instinctively,he knew that something horrible had happened. In a quick assessment honed with years of training, Thomas immediately noticed the missing sword from the mantle - and quickly charged towards Don's sleeping chamber.

Now, as Thomas swiftly surveyed the bedroom scene, the look of panic on the man's face turned to desperation. Where Don lay bleeding on the bed, his breathing shallow and faint, and with Bara laying slumped alongside on the floor and up against the matterss, the man never hesitated, but leaped into immediate action.

Re-sheathing his sword, Thomas went to Bara first, but upon seeing the katana wedged deep into her midsection, he suddenly understood. The recorded tones from the mysterious phone calls over the past several weeks came back to him in a rush, and it was then that he finally figured it all out. The realization slapped him hard in the face, the epiphany he had hoped for, obviously coming too late, taunting him without mercy. He knew then, that the strange tones were messages – meant only for Bara.

However, he put that fact aside, for he had a greater worry and concern.

Don looked up weakly to meet his valet's frantic expression, the turtle's face streaked with unabated tears of anguish and supreme grief.

Thomas looked back at him in repsonse, but his expression was of that ofanger, rage and hate for Bara.

Yet, as Don's vision swam before him and as his mind began to cloud with growing unconsciousness, he watched as Thomas reached for his cell phone to call for help. As the man spoke into thephone's mouthpiece and as he grabbed up a pillow to apply pressure to his employer's grievous wounds, Don's essence began to fade. In less than a minute from waking and after watching his beautiful wife commit seppuku, Don's system began to shut down. As it did and as the faint hollow sound of Thoma's voice faded away, Don Tello's mind filled with an comforting inky blackness, as peace andoblivion finally overwhelmed him.

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_**Comments** - To all who read and reviewed, a bit appreciative thanks! You're the best._


	6. Post Season

**_Disclaimer – _**_Well, this is it as far as chapters. The next one will be the epi. I have it all written, but it needs a bit of tweaking. As always, I don't own the TMNT's or Bara. Once again, I borrowed this idea from Wendy Peabody's 'Rahab'. Go read it. Ziptango has it on her home page under Fan Fiction, and TurtleNinja has it on hers. There are differences between the two, probably because Wendy might have tweaked her story once, after someone already copied/pasted it onto their site. Either way, hope this chapter helps some of you to recover a bit._

_Also, I've made some factual changes to chapter 5, based on how Wendy described Don's injury in Rahab. Chapter 13 of that book pointed out that there wasn't a cut along Don's chest. The only strike was to his upper arm, at the deltoid muscle. In the two versions of that story, though, there are different 'takes' as to what happened right after Bara tried to kill Don. One of them had Don waking just before the strike and trying to move out of harms way, only to have his shoulder – rather than his neck – catch the full brunt of the sword. In another version, he woke up after the fact, and then leaped out of bed. I chose the latter, since it says that Bara's love for him altered her original programming. Read if you must, but there's no encouragement from me to have anyone re-read chapter 5. _

_With Ziptango's laptop biting the proverbial 'dust', however, she was unable to beta read. So, whatever glitches you find, please excuse. One can read the same chapter just so many times. After a while, the words start running together! LOL_

_Also, due to the recent attacks on certain stories regarding a myriad of reasons, I am foregoing my usual 'thanks' to my faithful reviewers at the end of this chapter. However, I will list those who were kind enough to comment on the last update._

_Be blessed._

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**Chapter 6 – Post Season**

The after-surgery pain was less this time, he had noticed. An 'improvement' was what the doctor had said. "Only a few more operations like this one, Mr. Tello, and your arm will be as good as new."

Don could only hope, of course, and he did recognize that there were positive changes in his arm's movement and sensation. It was a bit of good news from his doctor that seemed to please Don, which was a rare occurrence of late.

Yet, one thing would not change and that was the scar. With at least two more operations still to look forward to, there wasn't any way for plastic surgery to help in the matter. So long as he continued with the prescribed reconstructive process, his wound would never be able to heal properly enough to avoid scarring. With his right deltoid muscle bunched unnaturally, for as long as he lived it would remind Don Tello of how he had cheated death and how Bara, his wife, had tried to murder him.

Once again he sighed, something he had found himself doing for the past hour. The spells were like that, sporadic and assaulting his mind without warning. The doctor had initially advised counseling, but Don rejected the idea, stating almost indignantly, "I've been through worse than this, Dr. Williams, and I have never _once_ had to indulge the psychiatrist's couch."

Of course, back then when he earned injuries of similar nature, even though this was probably worse by far, he and his brothers lived hidden under the streets of New York City. Had he attempted to take advantage of such help during those times, a psychiatrist's couch would have been the least of his worries.

Nevertheless, every so often when he was relaxed and not thinking of anything in particular, Don would see an after image of his dead wife's face. It showed the very expression she wore when she died alongside his bed. Yet, no matter how he tried to conjure up a different image, the one of her in death seemed permanently imprinted in his mind. It haunted and teased him into believing that, in some way, he was responsible for her fate. Had he originally not convince himself into believing the messages were nothing more than misdialed fax machines, he was confident that Bara would still be alive.

As it was, Don initially blamed his pampered and indulgent lifestyle. Believing that his and his family's war with their hated enemy had ended, it was what had given him a false sense of security that they were no longer in any danger from them. The only people he had had to worry about, since their emergence into society, had been technology thieves, men who tried to steal his ideas before they hit the market. Now, everything had changed and reverted to those days when he and his brothers had to fight to stay alive. It was only a matter, now, of waiting to see what else they might do to undermine the mutant family.

Yet, despite his current concerns for his clan's well being, Don could not stop thinking about how he could have thwarted Bara's untimely death. Had he devoted his energies to the strange recorded tones and had Don taken Thomas's concerns more seriously, he was positive that he would have eventually discerned the meaning behind the messages. Armed with that knowledge, then, Don believed that he could have taken Bara to Leo's ryu in Japan. There he would have incorporated his brother's assistance and either rehabilitate or reprogram his wife. At least, that was what Don believed, and it seemed to play continuously and without mercy in his mind.

Regardless, though, many weeks later after they had deciphered the message, Leo himself had remarked that such conditioning would have been difficult to undo.

"I suspect that she was a kunoichi, Don. Whoever did this probably trained and programmed Bara since childhood," Leo had explained, "Because of that, she would still have residual traces of her conditioning. Bara would _never_ be completely safe." Leo then whispered sadly to his brother as Don lay in the hospital bed, "And then…we would have to take 'care' of her."

Nevertheless, after the attack and while Don recuperated from his first round of surgeries, Mike had helped solve the mystery of the strange phone calls. It was too late for Bara, of course, but it did add one more twist in their war with their long-hated enemy. It was now apparent that their old antagonists were using programmed infiltration to beguile the mutant family and their need for companionship.

In any event, back when Thomas initially played the recordings to Mike, Don's brother had suggested their musical quality. "Maybe each note represents a letter of the alphabet?" Mike had wondered aloud.

Thomas was stunned; he hadn't even thought of that.

Considering that Mike owned a small growing recording business on the West Coast, he and the valet flew out to California with the messages and ran them through the studio's audio system. However, after taking the English alphabet and applying all twenty-six letters to the first twenty-six keys on the piano he had there, it didn't work out the way they had hoped.

"Well," Mike thought, "middle C is the traditional starting point. Let's begin there."

Unfortunately, even that didn't work out. No matter how they combined the letters, nothing seemed to make sense.

Finally, Mike had another epiphany, but he groaned at the same time, "What if they used…_kanji_?"

Thomas's eyes widened considerably and then stated almost in trepidation, "Mike, do you realize how many characters are in my native language?"

Nodding, Mike replied, "Yep, that's…why I groaned, dude. But, I think it's probably what they used, since the English alphabet would be too easy t'figure out. If they used all eighty-eight keys on a piano, then they'd have to apply specific kanji characters pertaining to Bara's assignment, otherwise it would be too complicated - even for them." Mike shook his head, "and, other than using what her final mission as a template, it's goin' t'be hard to figure out."

Despite the impossibility of the task, it was their only other option. Consequently, they threw themselves into their work, sifting through the hundreds of kanji characters that would command Bara to kill. Since they knew what the last message probably told her to do, they used that and, ever so slowly, began the process of unraveling the code. Working backwards from that last message, they toiled for hours, day after day, moving from her final command through the first three. At one point, they became so stymied and unable to progress any further, as a last resort they called Leo out from Japan to assist them.

Although he didn't care much for traveling, Leo's concern for his own welfare and that of Splinter's helped to motivate him to join Mike and Thomas in California. He was concerned that if someone affiliated with the Foot had successfully compromised Don's security back in New York, what were the chances that another 'Trojan horse' was in placement at the ryu? This became his greatest fear

After making sure that Splinter was safely ensconced in one of Don's safe houses in south Osaka and then had him surrounded by personally trained warriors dedicated to protecting the mutant family, Leo took one of Don's jets and had the pilot fly him out to California.

Then, once he arrived at Mike's Beverly Hills home, and then chauffeured on to Hollywood to the recording studio, he joined the tag-team effort of decoding the messages. By working in shifts non-stop, after what seemed like weeks, they finally figured out the basic meaning to all four messages. Initially, Leo had been impressed. He saw it as a brilliant method of pre-conditioning an assassin. Using specific Japanese kanji characters and applying them to particular musical tones, then playing the music over the telephone, the enemy's intent would be near impossible to recognize. Don's interpretation that they sounded just like a fax machine wasn't too far from the truth. Yet, it was obvious that the messages were anything so innocent. They were almost foolproof, except for the one so conditioned.

When they finally deciphered the first message, though, while Don had been in Europe with Raphael, all three de-coders held their breath in belated anxiety. The message said, _'Make sure you are alone. Be Ready, Seek Weaponry. Your Time is Soon.'_

There were obvious gaps where missing characters should have been, but the gist of the message was perfectly clear.

Yet, the question persisted, though, as to why Bara could not recognize the order when Don had asked her about it. It only added one more mystery to their conundrum. After much thought, Leo finally understood why this was so. As he listened to the messages, he remarked that whatever programming the Foot forced upon Bara, it might have prepared her to feign ignorance without knowing she was doing so. As an afterthought, he commented to Mike and Thomas, "She had been trained to be an innocent, to be above suspicion. What background check you did on her, Thomas, the Foot obviously had something to do with it. Therefore, for Bara to readily know what the messages meant would have been impossible for her."

The second and third recordings that Don had intercepted were shorter, with no mention of a weapon. They were very simple commands - _'Be ready.'_

Yet, it was the final message that had chilled them to the bone initially, and brought to fruition all that the Foot had trained Bara to do. Short and to the point and then repeating itself in a loop, the coded musical command ordered, _'Your time is now! Kill and Die with Honor.'_

"But, how would they know that she would intercept it and at that precise moment, though?" Mike asked, befuddled.

Thomas had quieted considerably, as if he, too, had given thought to what Mike had just voiced. Quietly, he replied, almost in trepidation, "They were watching for her. They had to be, where she was programmed so perfectly. The dreams she kept having, the nightmares Don told me about, were all part of her path towards destroying him and then herself." Thomas had sighed, "There are several skyscrapers in the area that would have a perfect view of Don's penthouse."

"But," Mike shook his head and chuckled nervously as he challenged that thought, "Don had all the windows tinted, it would have been impossible for them to see in."

Shrugging, the valet replied, "With the right kind of spy technology, they could compromise such measures." He looked at the two brothers and smiled sheepishly, his voice low, "I've done it myself with the Russian mafia."

Still, it was a sobering thought for all of them, and it only made their sense of security even less so. If Don's personally designed safety measures to ensure his own well being was not enough, then the threat to them only magnified the precarious place in the world that much more.

However, they kept such news from Don for as long as they could, where he was still recovering from not only the first series of surgeries, but trying to cope with the emotional aftermath of his loss. The doctor had prescribed mild sedatives in order to moderate his personal turmoil, yet, just as soon as he became clear-headed again and free from the affects of the drugs, Don began asking about what the family had learned. Knowing that he would persist until they told him, they finally shared what they had discovered about the calls.

When he heard about their findings, Don was livid. Yet, all that he said in response, though, had been, "She _was_ conditioned!", and then he quickly quelled his rage as it became obvious to him that someone had set him up.

He knew, now, that someone had taken great measures and an even greater amount of time to undermine his heart. Grooming a young woman to undermine a known enemy and with beguiling charm as Bara had and whose eventual goal was murder, was an age-old formula for vanquishing an opponent. It was a typical kunoichi tactic, her ninjitsu lords willingly sacrificing her beauty and her life for the sake of victory. To think that his precious Bara, his beautiful mate, his love, had been one of these women, sickened him with a despair that nearly consumed him. However, he quickly dipped into his time-honored habit of meditating, with Don retreating into himself in order to try to deal with his grief.

As the days and weeks slipped by, though, Don became increasingly more aloof. Yet, he couldn't help but to wonder if Bara was actually aware of what she had done at the time. He would never forget the look of hate on her face when he initially saw her in the bedroom. Standing by his bed, the sword in the position of a completed down-strike, Bara had even growled at him. However, the moment their eyes locked, the instant her rage melted away and confused grief replaced it, in that moment Don believed that Bara had been fully aware of her actions. Whatever _programming_ his wife had had, it was obviously not nearly strong enough to complete her mission.

Whatever she was thinking at the time, the fact that she had inflicted a wound so close to his head, suggested to Don that her original intent had been to decapitate him.

What bothered him more, though, was why she hadn't done so.

Maybe it was her love for him that deflected her mission. It was a thought that gave him a glimmer of hope for her innocence, but one that – as he continued to recall the fateful night – dimmed with each recollection.

In truth, he could not forget the last words that Bara had said to him that evening. The memory of it slowly and painfully whittled Don's grief down to a bitter nub, tearing away any residual love that he might have had for her. As hard as he tried, he just could not stop hearing her last, sob-choked words, _"I'm sorry, I loved you."_

Yet, in a strange way, another type of feeling consumed him. It threw his mind into haunting conflicts of thought. The simple fact was - Don missed her - and terribly so. However, after each operation, and as he struggled between grief and rage over what Bara had done, as the weeks and months slipped by, Don's longing gradually diminished.

Now, four months later, after another round of surgeries, he found himself recovering at his home in the Mojave Desert of southern California. He had already undergone three operations to repair the damage to his shoulder, with the resulting outlook showing almost complete recovery. Don had to credit the state of the art medical advancements that science had gained over recent years and the fact that he could afford the world's best doctors. In fact, it was only a matter of weeks before he could resume his work schedule once again.

As he sat under one of the acacia trees on his patio and while he lounged in his chair, Don looked out across the vast desert landscape that lay just beyond the perimeter wall. In similarity, it seemed as vacant and as dry as his heart. He then absentmindedly and gingerly fingered the slightly swollen scar along his deltoid, watching as the sun approached the western horizon. The rainbow of warm hues slowly gave way to the cool blues and purples of night, with the most eastern part of the sky revealing its first faint star for the evening. Don sighed and closed his eyes. He felt a rarified moment of thankfulness. With sunset was still a good thirty minutes away, there was still plenty of warmth left to enjoy. For the moment, he felt a bit of rarified contentment.

Although his body was mending and doing better than anyone had expected, Don's knew that his mental state might take longer. As it was, he continued to suffer from the trauma of losing Bara and in the way that he did. As a result, his outward countenance became aloof and detached.

As he sat in his chair, Don listened impassively to his younger brother talk. Mike had been regaling him about his growing music business, and about the party that he was going to have in a couple of weeks.

"Yeah, dude, I mean every big-name artist is going t'be here. It's gonna probably last the entire weekend if not the whole week!" Mike chortled happily. "You might want to be somewhere else, Donnie-boy, maybe spend some time in Croton, give Mindy a call? I don't think my clients'll be your kind of crowd!"

Don just stared straight ahead, absentmindedly nodding every so often in detached agreementt. With Mike's mention, he briefly thought of Mindy, thought of calling her, but then quickly dismissed the idea. He wasn't quite ready to explain to her what had happened to him and Bara, not just yet, anyway.

"Oh, and Raph may be coming by in a month, to see ya." Mike went on to say, "He's still dealing with that Russian mafia issue that he and Thomas took over for ya, but they're close to finish'n it."

"That's good to hear, Mike. Thank them for me." Don said softly, not turning his attention away from the desert panorama.

"Hey, ya can thank them yourself when you see 'em. Raph said he's gonna stop by the Croton house, before coming here to rest up." Mike said, "Croton might be a good place for ya, keep ya close to the bus'ness in New York."

"Hmm mmm…" Don muttered quietly. He thought that having a bunch of music industry people to deal with would not be a good thing for him right now. He sighed at the idea and silently agreed with Mike that moving back to the house in New York would be better.

Mike then glanced at his brother and sighed. He could see by Don's vacant expression that he had lost interest in the one-sided conversation again. The past several weeks had been awkward at best in trying to socialize with his stricken brother. It was often hard to know what to talk to him about. Mostly, everyone in the family tried to avoid the one topic that seemed to consume all of them, yet it was very much like having an elephant in the room. It was hard to ignore. So, Mike decided to shut up for a while. Instead, he relaxed in his own chair, leaning back with his arms behind his head, as he tried to take in the last offering of warmth from the sun. The only disturbance was the occasional call from wild birds as they called out one last time before night fell upon the desert.

As Don studied the waterfall burbling over the rocks, he tried to mediate a little. As the shadows deepened around the yard, one by one the automated lighting switched on. He watched as the water, now backlit with the artificial illumination, cascaded in gentle rivulets down into the larger pond below. The cheerful sound of splashing conflicted oddly with the dry desert landscape that surrounded the compound. He watched as the multitude of koi fish swam within the pool, their variegated colors adding a jeweled quality to the waterscape. They played among the shadows that rock and manmade luminance created, moving in among the underwater foliage like phantoms. Their gold and creamy white hues created a striking contrast against the darker recesses of the pond. For Don, they were mesmerizing and, for a moment, the decorative fish allowed him a bit of respite from his concerns. He let his mind relax, then, and wander for a moment.

However, as the silence grew deeper between them, Mike fidgeted. Sighing and unable to ignore the obvious, he turned solemnly towards his brother. He carefully laid a gentle hand along Don's knee so as not to startle him. Mike then said softly, "I'm – sorry, bro, about – well – you know."

With his trance-like state now interrupted and the pond no longer his focus, Don blinked at Mike's question. He then turned a hardened face to him. He looked at his brother full on as he asked, his tone devoid of emotion, "Did Thomas find out who Bara _really_ was?"

Taken aback by Don's impassive tone, Mike sighed and then shrugged. Gone now was his surfer accent, his voice taking on a more formal tone, as he replied, "Not yet. They only know that she was part of the Foot, a kunoichi, trained from childhood to infiltrate and assassinate targets – and you were her target, Don."

Again, silence interrupted their conversation. After a moment, Don nodded and said evenly as he looked over at the pond again, "She wasn't very good, if she was trained to kill _me_." He then glanced back to his brother, "I'm certain that if Bara's hadn't become distracted by her feelings for me, I would have been decapitated."

"Hey, Don," Mike said in defense, "maybe her programming tanked…just before…I mean," Mike's voice became whisper soft, afraid to speak any louder, almost in reverence, "I saw the way Bara looked at you in Japan at the wedding, the way she said her vows. Man, Don, that girl _loved_ you." Shaking his head, Mike glanced away, his own face hardening, "Better we find the people who did this to _her_…who did this to _you_…than to dirty Bara's name any more than it needs to be." He sighed, then, depressed and sad for what his brother had gone through and for what Bara's death had done to the whole family.

However, a sudden shift in Don's mood caught Mike's attention, forcing him to face his brother once again. Donatello now looked over at his sibling, a seething gaze emanating from his eyes. It almost seemed capable of filleting the skin right off Mike's face, resulting in causing the poor turtle to almost pale in response.

He then heard Don exclaim; his brother's words edged with razor sharp precision, "**_Bara was trained to love me, MIKE! She paid . her . price . for betraying me_** I **_know_** what she said to me just before committing seppuku, and it was not love, Mike, it was **_regret_**." Don looked away, now, almost exhausted, yet his expression remained as hard as steel. The muscles in his jaws contracted and then clenched as he recalled, "She kept telling me, over and over, _'I'm sorry I loved you'_." Shaking his head and sighing deeply, Don remarked, "No, Bara might have been programmed, but she knew what she was doing the moment she raised that katana. I have no **_doubt_** about that, now."

Mike could shake his head, his own heart aching for his brother's loss. He knew that Don was hurting and in more ways than any of them ever had. Yet, Mike could not believe for a single moment that Bara knew what she was doing when she had tried to kill her husband. Maybe it was Mike's own way of coping, where his usually cheerful self and positive outlook on life tried to see past the negative. In any event, he held his tongue, knowing that whatever opinion Don had of Bara, there wasn't any way of dissuading him from it. Regardless, Mike knew that, for Don, he would have to come to terms with it, no matter what the outcome.

As Don continued to sit there in the garden with his brother, the night that had changed his life forever continued to play out in his mind. Despite his own opinion that Bara had been fully aware of her actions, Don still could not forget the look of confusion on her face. It seemed to contradict the sneer she first gave. Waking to find his shoulder barely adhered to his body and then with Bara's contrasting expression, the remembrance eventually caused Don to second-guess his final assessment. He ended up wondering long afterwards if she really did understand what she had tried to do to him.

Still, she did say what she said and he would never forget her words for as long as he lived.

Worse still, however, his pain-distorted memory had also edged the mental picture of her features, as if mocking her beauty. He would always recall how her face screwed up with guilt and shame, contrasting her hateful and vengeful eyes that had stared into his own only seconds before. In his mind, he could still see the trickle of the one single tear tracing its solo journey down her right cheek, a red tear representing his spilled blood. He would forever evoke her last words to him, words choked with emotion and sadness. _'I'm sorry I loved you'_. They were words that clashed with her hateful hiss from beforehand, challenging the sincerity of her sudden suck of air, as if shocked by the sight of his injury.

Don could only picture the sword in her hand with the sword in her body, with both becoming one in his scarred mind. Had he killed her, or had she killed herself? In all honestly, he could not remember, since the impact of his injury had impaired his memory. What made it frustrating for him was that Thomas could not say what had actually happened, since he had come into the room after the fact. Nevertheless, the word 'seppuku' became part of Don's recollections over his wife's demise.

In either event, none of it mattered anymore; his wife was dead and, as far as Don was concerned, so was his need for love. He knew beyond any doubt that those last few seconds of Bara's life would haunt him for the remainder of _his_. Consequently, a subtle hardness crept into his heart and his very being, keeping at bay any grief he might have had for her. It didn't take long for Don to decide to never again find himself compromised, or caught off guard, in the way that he had been with Bara.

As he mulled over his thoughts and as he sat there on his patio, the last lingering vestiges of light faded along the western horizon. With the encroaching night only minutes away, the stars winked on in the east, one at a time, as they followed the dimming glow of the sun. The full glory of the Milky Way now slowly drew across the sky above like a transparent curtain, chasing the celestial golden orb as it circumvented the earth in its westerly arc. Don stared up into the darkening expanse, his thoughts on only one thing. He knew that his body would eventually recover. He also knew that he would heal emotionally, too, yet he was fully aware that he would never again trust another woman.

In a moment of clarity that was almost painful, Don made up his mind that, for as long as he lived, he would make every effort to keep himself safe from their charms and from their beguiling ways.

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**_Comments – _**_Thanks to all who read and reviewed.** Ramica, Kaya Lizzie, Pacphys, Pretender Fanatic, Lunar Ninja, Reluctant Dragon, Jessiy Landroz, Chibit Rose Angel.**_

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_Be blessed!_


	7. A New Season

**_DISCLAIMER – _**_Well, here it is, the epi and the end. As before, I own only the PC on my desk, the chair I sit in, and the idea for this particular story. All other aspects to this universe belong to Wendy Peabody or Eastman/Laird, and Mirage Studios. Thanks to everyone who read and for those who took the time to review. For those who did leave their comments after the previous chapter, they are – **Jessiy**** Landroz, Pacphys, Ramica, Lunar-Ninja, and Chibi Rose Angel.** _

_As for how this chapter opens, I have this thing for colorful sunsets or anything having to do with transitions of that nature. _

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**Epilogue – A New Season**

"Man, these contracts…can't they say what they mean?" Don groaned, "They waste so much ink just repeating the same thing and in a million different ways."

With his impatient ranting, Don knew that he had to take a break. Consequently, he dropped the contracts onto his desk and rubbed at his tired eyes. He then reached over for his cup of coffee. As he brought the cup up to his mouth, he leaned back against his leather chair and took one long pull of the still-warm drink. Taking a second swig, he savored the sensation of bitter liquid as it coursed its way down his throat. Transfixed, now, by the scene before him, Don stared out the large plate-glass window of his office.

From where he sat, thirty stories above the city and with very few obstacles to impede his view, Don had a rather pleasant vista of the Statue of Liberty. She was beginning to glow a little around her right edges, the patina of green brightening along her height, as the sun approached the western side of the Big Apple. Her long shadow stretched steadily across Upper Bay towards Red Hook Channel, while daytime prepared to surrender itself to the encroachment of night. Don then panned his eyes left and spied the faintest of stars blinking just above the farthest eastern horizon of the Atlantic Ocean, evident that evening would soon be upon him and the city.

After a few more swallows of his coffee and after another minute or two of relaxing and taking in the panorama, Don sighed. Placing his cup back down on the desk in front of him, he then picked up the contracts once more and resumed his reading again.

As he worked through the paperwork, Don thought back to the past twelve months. It had already been several weeks since his last operation, with only one more to go, yet he was amazed with how much time had already passed. He flexed his right arm as he thought about it and smiled. It _was_ good as new, just as Dr. Williams had promised, yet it did ached occasionally, again just as the good doctor said it would. The pain only reminded Don of too many things that he would rather forget.

"It's a phantom pain, which isn't all that unusual, Mr. Tello," Dr Williams had told him, "With the kind of trauma you went through, it's amazing that's all you've had to deal with!"

Nevertheless, despite his reoccurring discomfort, between Leo's tea and meditation – and plenty of rest, Don had managed to weather through the worst of it.

As expected, though, his near full mobility allowed Don to return to his business and to get back to his old routine. Of course, he did try to take things a bit easier in order to allow time for him to adjust to a normal schedule, his normal schedule, that is.

Still, he had to chuckle at that thought, considering all the changes he had to make.

"What is normal, anyway?" he mused sarcastically, thinking of the improvements to security he had made, just to ensure that another incident, like the one that nearly took his life, never happened again. If he had anything to do with it, no one would ever again touch him in the way that Bara had.

Yet, because of her attack on him and because of where it had occurred, Don ending up selling the skyscraper where he and Bara had lived, purchasing a new one only three blocks away. Their old place provided him with far too many disturbing remembrances, recollections that continued to haunt him the longer he stayed in the home they had shared. It was enough that his memory did the honors.

Nevertheless, his new home placed him closer to the southern edge of Manhattan Island, giving him a wonderful view of The Lady of New York City and something soothing to look at. The statue and the myriad of boats and ships as they trudged in and out of the channel gave Don a pleasant distraction from his usually hectic life.

In addition to ridding himself of his and Bara's home, though, Don had also sold or given away everything that was hers, whether he had given it to her as a gift or if she had purchased it herself. Nothing of hers would remain in his possession, not if he had anything to say about it.

As for the samurai painting, the one that bothered Bara so much and which was worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, Don had burned.

Shortly after the attack and while Don lay in the hospital recovering from his first round of surgeries, Thomas had taken the gift he had picked up for Don and returned it to the jewelry store. Without needing a word from his employer, Thomas knew that Don would not want a reminder of what he had lost when Bara tried to kill him, only to kill her own self instead. It would be too hard on him to have a reminder for the kind of love he had for his deceased wife.

As for the sword, Raphael gave it to Mike for safekeeping, that is, until Don was able to reaccept its importance back into the family again. When everyone finally agreed it was best to place it in storage until that time. Mike gladly did the honors. Carefully cleaning it of only his brother's blood and then sheathing it, Mike packed it off to his California home in Beverly Hills.

Nevertheless, through the past several months after the attack and his surgeries, Don's focus was on only his work. He forced himself not to think, not to pause, and certainly not to daydream. So far, he was slowly winning the battle for his mind and, despite the length of time away from his business while he recuperated from his surgeries, his financial empire continued to grow as well.

As for Bara's passing, the family had heatedly discussed the best way to reveal her death to Don's staff. No one wanted the authorities in on the details, yet it was obvious that Don was unable to continue in his roll as CEO; at least for a while, anyway. The fact that he was now minus a wife, who had already established a reputation for herself in the business, only made things difficult for them. What was more worrisome was the family's fear that informants might very well be in place in the company, eagerly awaiting any news about Don's health. Where it was impossible to confirm such suspicions, however - where Bara had effectively slipped under Don's radar undetected as a Foot agent, they still wanted to avoid a full-scale investigation by the New York City police. Consequently, they opted to confide in a few highly placed detectives about their situation. With Don had already establishing himself as a calming influence politically and had developed a rapport with the police, due to his generous philanthropy, there were very few reasons for them to be concerned. Once they brought the chief of police in on their problem, that Don's wife was part of a hit job and that Bara had tried to kill Don before committing suicide, the chief placed a gag order on all news concerning the situation. In fact, much to the family's relief, he handled it as if it had never happened. Not even the paparazzi caught wind of it.

As it was, other than those close to the truth, no one else knew about Bara's true fate, except for what the family told them. For those under Don's employment and the public at large, they learned that Bara had contracted a fatal illness while she and Don had taken a week's respite at the Croton on Hudson house. With the police chief's blessings, Don's personal doctor 'verified' the fact, listing the cause of her death as virally oriented and providing proof of the bacterial agents in his reports to 'support' his findings. Thomas knew that, had the regular or even Federal authorities been aware of the truth of the matter, there wouldn't have been any end to the investigations concerning Don's family and Japanese crime lords. The clan's position had always been that, to whatever means deemed necessary, the family's ninjitsu heritage and personal conflicts would remain 'non-existent', with no exceptions or excuses. It was only through years of Don exercising a genteel and compassionate appearance and his ability to endear people to his will or cause that he had at the ready a contingency of personnel from every facet of civilized life. No matter the situation, Don had made sure long before Bara tried to kill him, that his clan would forever remain above suspicion, appearing for all concerned as just a simple family unit.

In any event, the news of Bara's sudden passing filtered into the mainstream of things, the shock from Don's employees setting up an expected amount of mourning. Then, with Thomas, Mike, and Raphael in attendance, and if only to make it more convincing, they allowed a simple traditional Japanese funeral, including a viewing of the body.

Bara had been radiant, even in death, her beauty contrasting the fatal wound that lay hidden under her Japanese kimono. The family had decided to forego the shinishozoku, for the traditional robe, keeping with the customary white color for death and having the right side of the kimono lying over the left to signify her passing. Thomas allowed the money pouch, though, filled with the expected coins, another tradition and one that he felt necessary. "As much as she shamed herself with her actions," he told Mike, "in death she should be honored."

Of course, it would be many weeks later before they would realize that Bara was as much a victim of her own circumstances as Don was, yet until they discovered that truth, Thomas had held much contempt for her. No one could rightly blame him, either.

As it was, the funeral appeased those who mourned her passing. The family had explained that Don's absence from the service was due to severe grief and his need for privacy. There were the expected rumors, of course, but once Thomas played a well-crafted videotaped message from Don, it assured those who questioned things more openly that he was indeed quite healthy. As it was, the tape was one that Don had had made only the year before, in case such an event as illness or injury befell him. He knew all too well that the one thing to topple any financial empire was the rumor of its CEO being either too ill to run it, or dying prematurely. Too many companies lost their investors when events of that nature happened, and Don wanted to make sure that it would never happen to him. He knew that the health of his business would have an impact on his family and on many levels that most people would never even consider. To lose that security would mean a host of future problems for everyone.

After the funeral, the family reported to anyone interested that Don planned to have Bara's body cremated in the traditional Japanese way. Then, they would ship her remains back to Japan to reside next to her deceased grandfather.

In truth, the clan had her ashes shipped overseas in a simple box. Once they were in position over Japan, they parachuted the box out from one of Don's jets into what they knew to be Foot territory, which resided along the northern part of the island nation. Accompanying the 'special delivery', they had included a note of threat and reprisal for any rebuttal to her failed mission.

Now, it was just a matter of waiting to see if the rival clan would accept their loss with dignity and honor – or further their campaign against the mutant family.

Nevertheless, at night while he slept, Don could still 'see' Bara in his dreams. A subtle vision of beauty, lying next to him, embracing him, kissing him, and then, plunging a knife deep into his heart. The nightmares were all symbolic, of course, but, still, he would wake with a sudden arch of his body, striking out blindly at the shadows as his reflexes became automatic. It was almost as if he was trying to deflect his inner demons. In any event, he would then find himself drenched in sweat in the same way that Bara would have been after one of her dreams.

Afterwards, though, Don would think about her and think about her nightmares. He would recall the strange phone messages that came at odd hours, and then he would remember what Thomas and Mike had later discovered about what the tones were telling her to do.

It was usually at that point from waking and thinking about her, when Don would release his grief. His tormented anguished cries would echo through his bedroom while the cloak of night hid his tears. As he mourned the loss of his beloved Bara, his rose and ultimate thorn, Don would eventually slip into a fitful slumber. Then, besieged with the never-ceasing dreams of his wife, he would cry even in the middle of his sleep, only to wake up the next morning, red-eyed, yet ready to brave a new day to conduct 'business as usual'.

Although solving the mystery had explained Bara's behavior, it still left a lingering regret in his heart - and a fear, as well - that others in Don's employment or business dealings were likewise conditioned.

As a result and as time went by, Don slowly became more recluse. His entire countenance became glacial cold and aloof, placing distance between himself and anyone else not considered family. Yet, even family members often had to endure his arctic-cool countenance.

In either event, his dead wife's essence lingered for a long while in Don's mind. Despite what she did to him, his heart still ached to hold her, to kiss her…to forgive her.

God, how he wanted to forgive her.

Over time, though, he adjusted to as normal a routine as he could, just as did everyone else. He gradually shoved the tragic memory of his loss further back in his mind as he became more determined to win his personal battle. In truth, Don tried very hard to forget her. Gradually, his dreams and nightmares lessened, and slowly, he did learn to let Bara go. Only rarely did she haunt his thoughts and dreams, and usually when he was especially tired or unusually stressed.

Still, along the way, he had lost something more precious than his beloved wife. He had lost the need for love.

Now, as he sat at his desk and poured over the most recent proposal, Don's phone rang out. Absentmindedly picking it up, while still reading from the paper that he held in his other hand, he spoke into the receiver. With his voice flat and unemotional, he spoke into the mouthpiece, "Hello."

"Hey, Donnie boy! How's the tail hanging?" It was Mike.

Don smiled a little, a rare expression for him, and replied, "Longer than yours, but what can I do you for, Mikey?"

Chuckling on the other end of the phone, Mike replied, "Just want'n ta bug ya a bit, give ya an update, and – ah – to – ah - let you know that I had a visitor about a month ago." He cleared his throat and then corrected himself; "_ACTually_, it was about a month ago…when she climbed over the back wall here in Mojave."

Don stopped what he was doing and looked up from the papers in alarm to stare out his office window, "What – do you mean _SHE_ climbed over the back wall?" His eyes narrowed in wary concern as his ninja senses went on high alert.

"Rahab," Mike sniggered, "AND, guess what, Donnie?"

"She's _female_." Don remarked flatly, his anxiety slowly rising.

"Ah…side from that…yeah. But, no, guess what? She's…get this, bro… Rahab's a _lizard_!" He laughed hard into the phone as he continued, "Yeah, and a mutant one, too, humanoid like us! I mean, she's about my height, sports a tail long enough for…ah…well, anyway, and she's even prettier than my mug!"

Don had to smile at his brother's enthusiasm, yet despite Mike's visitor being mutant, he was still cautious. Just the same, there was a subtle bit of interest, as well. Not that Don would have had any need, but the fact that she was a mutant suggested there might be more like her.

"Well, even a Saguaro cactus is prettier than your face, Mike. So…does she have a family, Mike?" Don asked dryly.

Mike laughed at his brother's jab, replying, "Nope, bro, just herself, uno numero, stuff like that." He continued to chirp, "One of a kind and we've been – ah- sort of – ah – _cozy_, if ya know what I mean?"

"Mike, I don't care about your love life, okay?" Don cringed, yet he couldn't help but smile a little over his brother's obvious enthusiasm. Then, more seriously, "And please keep an eye on her. The last thing we need is another incident like – " Don then sighed, "Well, just promise me you'll be careful."

"Will do, Donnie boy, and I think I'm gonna enjoy it, too!" Then, Mike said as an afterthought, "Oh and Raph stopped by this morning, too. Thought ya'd want ta know, all things considered. Anyhew…guess I'll let ya go." Mike then said 'goodbye', hung up on his end, and left Don to sit there to stare out his expansive penthouse window.

He leaned forward with his arms on his desk, watching as the late afternoon slipped behind the western side of New York City, long shadows reaching like fingers over Manhattan. One by one as the sun's rays dimmed, a rainbow of lights sparked alive below him, slowly bathing the metropolis with a multitude of bright colors. He sighed and then laid his forehead tiredly on his arms.

"Mike, oh Mike, you had better be careful, bro," he sighed. "Rahab? Who in their right mind would name their kid that?" he grumped under his breath. He knew that it was a Biblical name and one belonging to a woman who had participated in something pertaining to the Jewish people. Then, as he recalled the passage, his head shot up in sudden surprise.

"A **_prostitute_**? By the gods, Mike, what _have_ you done?" Sighing, he shrugged, "Well, however or why she was named or how she came to be, maybe they'll be able to have kids; that is if Mike doesn't run her off with his exuberant _lust_ for life."

Shaking his head and allowing himself the smallest of smiles, Don returned to his paperwork. To even imagine Mike becoming a father seemed as incongruous to him as a finding a rose in the middle of the desert.

Suddenly, as a wave of nostalgia washed over him, Don tried not to think about Mike, Rahab, or kids.

And, as his smile continued to fade, he especially tried not to think about roses, and what kind of future might have been for him.

The End.

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**_Shinishozoku : A dress for a journey to eternity. _**_The deceased is put on so called a grave clothes, a hood and a money pouch containing six pieces of money. This costume has a close resemblance to the traveling outfit in old days. So the SHINISHOZOKU can be regarded as the costume for starting on a journey to eternity. The six pieces of money in the pouch are said to be used as a ferriage for crossing Japanese Styx. _


End file.
